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EDITED BY 

JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN 
AND PAUL A.M. VAN LANGE 


« OWER 

POLITICS 

.mnuinm 





Power, Politics, and Paranoia 


Powerful societal leaders - such as politicians and chief executives - 
are frequently met with substantial distrust by the public. But why are 
people so suspicious of their leaders? One possibility is that “power 
corrupts” and therefore people are right in their reservations. Indeed, 
there are numerous examples of unethical leadership, even at the highest 
level, as the Watergate and Enron scandals clearly illustrate. Another 
possibility is that people are unjustifiably paranoid, as underscored by 
some of the rather far-fetched conspiracy theories that are endorsed by 
a surprisingly large number of citizens. Are societal power holders more 
likely than the average citizen to display unethical behavior? How do 
people generally think and feel about politicians? How do paranoia and 
conspiracy beliefs about societal power holders originate? In this book, 
prominent scholars address these intriguing questions and illuminate 
the many facets of the relations between power, politics, and paranoia. 

jan-willem van prooijen is an Associate Professor in the Depart¬ 
ment of Social and Organizational Psychology at the VU University 
Amsterdam, and Senior Researcher, Netherlands Institute for the Study 
of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR). 

PAUL A. M. van lange is a Professor and the Department Chair 
in the Department of Social and Organizational Psychology at the VU 
University Amsterdam. 




Power, Politics, and Paranoia 

Why People Are Suspicious of Their Leaders 


Edited, by 

Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 



Cambridge 

UNIVERSITY PRESS 



Cambridge 

UNIVERSITY PRESS 

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom 

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. 

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of 
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Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107035805 
© Cambridge University Press 2014 

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception 
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, 
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written 
permission of Cambridge University Press. 

First published 2014 

A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library 
Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data 

Power, politics, and paranoia : why people are suspicious of their leaders / edited by 
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange. 

pages cm 
Includes index. 

ISBN 978-1-107-03580-5 (hardback) 

1. Power (Social sciences) — Moral and ethical aspects. 2. Social psychology. 

3. Trust - Social aspects. 4. Conspiracy theories - Social aspects. 5. Transparency 
in government. 6. Business - Moral and ethical aspects. I. Prooijen, Jan-Willem 
van, 1975- , author, editor of compilation. II. Lange, Paul A. M. van, author, 
editor of compilation. 

HM1256.P69 2014 
303.3-dc23 2014003297 

ISBN 978-1-107-03580-5 Hardback 

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of 
URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, 
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, 
accurate or appropriate. 


Contents 


List of figures page vii 

List of tables ix 

List of contributors x 

Preface xiii 

1 Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 1 

JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN AND PAUL A. M. 

VAN LANGE 

I Power 

2 The effects of power on immorality 17 

JORIS LAMMERS AND ILJA VAN BEEST 

3 Do we give power to the right people? When and how 

norm violators rise to the top 33 

EFTYCHIA STAMKOU AND GERBEN A. VAN KLEEF 

4 The leaders’ rosy halo: why do we give power holders 

the benefit of the doubt? 53 

PAMELA It. SMITH AND JENNIFER R. OVERBECK 

5 “Power corrupts” revisited: the role of construal of 

power as opportunity or responsibility 73 

KAI SASSENBERG, NAOMI ELLEMERS, DAAN 
SCHEEPERS, AND ANNIItA SCHOLL 

II Politics 

6 Never trust a politician? Collective distrust, relational 

accountability, and voter response 91 

SUSAN T. FISKE AND FEDERICA DURANTE 



VI 


Contents 


7 Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular 

empowerment 106 

FOUAD BOU ZEINEDDINE AND FELICIA PRATTO 

8 All power to our great leader: political leadership under 

uncertainty 130 

JOHN J. HALLER AND MICHAEL A. HOGG 

9 Those who supported and voted for Berlusconi: a 

social-psychological profile of the willing followers of a 
controversial political leader 150 

ANTONIO CHIRUMBOLO AND LUIGI LEONE 

10 A growing confidence gap in politics? Data versus 

discourse 176 

RUDY B. ANDEWEG 

III Paranoia 

11 Misconnecting the dots: origins and dynamics of 

out-group paranoia 199 

RODERICK M. KRAMER AND JENNIFER SCHAFFER 

12 Political paranoia and conspiracy theories 218 

VIREN SWAMI AND ADRIAN FURNHAM 

13 The social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories 237 

JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN AND PAUL A. M. 

VAN LANGE 

14 Examining the monological nature of conspiracy 

theories 254 

ROBBIE M. SUTTON AND KAREN M. DOUGLAS 

15 The role of paranoia in a dual-process motivational 

model of conspiracy belief 273 

MARC STEWARD WILSON AND CHELSEA ROSE 

16 Searching for the root of all evil: an 
existential-sociological perspective on political 

enemyship and scapegoating 292 

DANIEL SULLIVAN, MARK J. LANDAU, ZACHARY 
IC. ROTHSCHILD, AND LUCAS A. KEEFER 


Index 


312 


Figures 


3.1 Effects of norm violation on perceptions of power, 

expected emotional reactions, and approach/inhibition 
tendencies. This figure is based on findings reported in 
Van Kleef et al., 2011, Study 3. page 37 


3.2 Power affordance as a function of norm violation 
(stealing coffee vs. taking coffee upon invitation) and 
prosociality (offering coffee to another person vs. keeping 
coffee for self). This figure is based on findings reported 
in Van Kleef et al., 2012, Study 3. 41 

4.1 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on 

judgments of their moral character. 63 

4.2 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on support 

for them. 64 

4.3 Effect of supervisors’ power, legitimacy, and transparency 

on judgments of their moral character. 65 

6.1 French-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed 
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 

6.2 German-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed 
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 

6.3 Italian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, 

both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 96 

6.4 Indian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, 
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 

6.5 Mexican sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, 
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 

6.6 Portuguese sample. Politicians appear in the dashed 

ellipse, slightly competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster 
centers. 98 

9.1 Political attitudes as a function of voting for Berlusconi 

versus the left-wing parties. 156 

9.2 Plot of the political attitudes as a function of RWA and 

SDO. 157 


vii 



viii List of figures 


9.3 Personality profiles of the voters according to the 

HEXACO traits. 166 

10.1 Satisfaction with the functioning of national democracy in 

EU member states, 1974-2012. 181 

10.2 Trust in the national parliament in EU member states, 

1997-2012. 183 

10.3 Trust in political parties in EU member states, 

1997-2012. 186 

10.4 Trust in politicians in sixteen European countries, 

2002-10. 187 

10.5 Variation in trust in parliament within and across 

twenty-seven countries, 2010. 189 

10.6 Satisfaction with the working of democracy and trust in 

politicians in twenty-seven countries, 2010. 194 

11.1 A model of out-group paranoia. 206 

14.1 Four different conceptions of the relationships between 

conspiracy theories. 265 

15.1 ModGraph plot of the SDO by RWA interaction 

predicting endorsement of organizational conspiracies. 284 

15.2 Path analysis of a dual-process model, including paranoia, 
predicting conspiracy belief (x 2 (7) = 13.36 ns, \ 2 /df = 

1.91, GFI = .96, RMSEA = .04, all paths significant at 

least at p < .05). 285 


Tables 


9.1 Definitions and examples of sociopolitical attitudes 

and beliefs page 155 

9.2 RWA and SDO scores as a function of voting 156 

9.3 Values and their underlying motivational goals according 

to Schwartz (1992) 160 

9.4 The HEXACO personality traits (Ashton et al., 2006; Lee 

and Ashton, 2004) 164 

9.5 Electoral performance of Berlusconi’s parties in the 

national elections since 1994 168 

10.1 Demographic correlates of political trust (mean trust on a 

scale from 0 to 10) 190 

15.1 Correlations between paranoia and conspiracy belief 

across four student samples 281 

15.2 Correlations between BIMP psychopathology subscale 
scores, conspiracy belief, RWA, SDO, and Worldview 

scale scores. 282 


IX 



Contributors 


rudy B. andeweg, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands 

fouad bou z eineddine. University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, 
USA 

antonio chirumbolo, Sapienza University of Rome, Rome, Italy 

karen M. Douglas, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK 

federica durante, Universita di Milano - Bicocca, Milano, Italy 

naomi ellemers, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands 

susan T. fiske, Princeton University, Princeton, NJ, USA 

Adrian furnham, University College London, London, UK 

JOHN j. haller, Claremont Graduate University, Claremont, CA, 
USA 

Michael A. hogg, Claremont Graduate University, Claremont, CA, 
USA 

lucas A. keefer, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA 

Roderick M. kramer, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA 

joris lammers, Universitat zu Koln, Koln, Germany 

mark j. landau, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA 

luigi leone, Sapienza University of Rome, Rome, Italy 

Jennifer R. overbeck, Melbourne Business School, Melbourne, 
Australia, and University of Utah, Salt Lake City, UT, USA 

Felicia pratto, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA 

chelsea rose, Victoria University of Wellington, Wellington, New 
Zealand 




List of contributors 


xi 


zachary K. Rothschild, Carleton College, Northfield, MN, USA 

kai sassenberg. Knowledge Media Research Centre, Tubingen, 
Germany 

Jennifer Schaffer, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA 

daan scheepers, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands 

annika scholl, Knowledge Media Research Centre, Tubingen, 
Germany 

Pamela K. smith, University of California, San Diego, CA, USA 

eftychia stamkou. University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The 
Netherlands 

daniel sullivan, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA 

robbie M. sutton, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK 

viren swami, University of Westminster, London, UK 

ilja van beest, Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands 

gerben a. van kleef, University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The 
Netherlands 

PAUL A. M. van langE , VU University Amsterdam, Amsterdam, 
The Netherlands 

jan-willem van prooijen, VU University Amsterdam, 
Amsterdam, The Netherlands 

marc steward Wilson, Victoria University of Wellington, 
Wellington, New Zealand 




Preface 


Leadership is an indispensable element of a smoothly operating society. 
We need political and corporate leaders to make important decisions 
that have a strong and lasting impact on our job prospects, our health, 
our safety, and our well-being. It therefore comes as no surprise that 
societal leaders are closely monitored by the media, and are continu¬ 
ously being evaluated by citizens. What is striking, though, is that many 
citizens seem uncomfortable with such societal power holders. This is 
reflected in the negative and suspicious remarks that can be frequently 
overheard in everyday discourse, assuming, for instance, that most politi¬ 
cians have a corrupt hidden agenda, or that most chief executive officers 
(CEOs) are heartlessly driven by financial self-interest without much 
regard for the collective interest or the well-being of their employees. 
Moreover, conspiracy theories abound about illegal secret activities of 
leaders, as, for instance, reflected in statistics revealing that large num¬ 
bers of people believe that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated 
in a political conspiracy involving elements of the US government, or 
that the 9/11 terrorist strikes were an “inside job.” All in all, many people 
have little confidence in the societal leaders that they depend on. 

It is important to find out how such distrust and suspiciousness emerge, 
and whether it is rooted in actual immoral behavior by power holders, in 
overly paranoid perceptions among citizens, or both. Does having power 
influence how unethically a leader is inclined to behave? Is a person’s 
moral compass predictive of the likelihood that he or she will rise to 
power? If one can establish such a link between power and immoral¬ 
ity, it may have substantial implications for how society should select and 
monitor its leaders. Are the negative perceptions of citizens towards lead¬ 
ers always justified? How often are citizens paranoid, perceiving immoral 
behaviors and evil conspiracies when in fact there are none? The less trust 
the public has in societal leaders, the more difficult it will be for those 
leaders to function effectively. This may hamper the collective inter¬ 
est, particularly in times of crisis. The importance of these issues is 
underscored by the enormous attention that researchers within the social 




XIV 


Preface 


sciences have devoted to understanding the dynamics associated with the 
influence of power on people’s behaviors and cognitions, as well as the 
origins of distrustful and paranoid perceptions among citizens. 

The “power, politics, and paranoia” project was largely inspired by 
the observation that many people tend to be rather suspicious of societal 
leaders. This observation energized numerous thoughts that are nicely 
captured by the idea of power, politics, and paranoia. For example, some 
would argue that “power corrupts,” that “power and politics often go 
hand in hand,” and that “paranoia” - defined as suspicious beliefs about 
the evil nature of others’ intentions and behaviors - may be a result of 
such processes. There is also state-of-the-art research on each of these 
topics. For example, some scholars investigate the extent to which power 
is predictive of unethical or norm-violating behavior. Others look at how 
citizens’ distrust, paranoia, and conspiracy beliefs emerge in situations 
where such negative perceptions may be unwarranted. We wanted to cap¬ 
ture both sides of the coin as we were deeply interested in illuminating 
these important issues. Indeed, we felt that these issues are important 
from a scientific perspective, and that a fuller understanding of them 
would involve a number of fields and disciplines closely related to psy¬ 
chology and political science. And, as alluded to earlier, we felt that the 
issues of power, politics, and paranoia are at the heart of societal well¬ 
being. How can societies function well if people do not trust their leaders? 
How can organizations pursue their goals if the leaders are mistrusted? 

The next step was to write a grant proposal in which we proposed not 
only research but also an international conference that would help us 
further understand the delicate and fragile trust relation between societal 
power holders and citizens. The conference was held in July 2012 in Ams¬ 
terdam, and attracted a range of international speakers, who approached 
this topic from various angles. Some time before the conference, we 
decided to edit a book on these issues. We approached prominent schol¬ 
ars working in various countries (such as Germany, Italy, The Nether¬ 
lands, New Zealand, the USA, and the UK) to contribute a chapter, 
and received many encouraging reactions. These reactions not only con¬ 
firmed our enthusiasm as such but also strengthened our conviction of the 
scientific and societal relevance of power, politics, and paranoia across a 
number of disciplines. We feel greatly indebted to these scholars, whose 
efforts to summarize their thoughts and ideas about the relations between 
power, politics, and paranoia in a chapter made the idea for this book a 
reality. 

Besides all the scholars who contributed a chapter, we feel we should 
express our gratitude to various other people who have been of invalu¬ 
able assistance. First of all, we wish to thank Hetty Marx of Cambridge 
University Press, who expressed enthusiasm for the book idea from the 



Preface 


xv 


very start, and with whom we had a very pleasant collaboration through¬ 
out the project. We also thank Sarah Green, Joanna Breeze, Jonathan 
Ratcliffe, Carrie Parkinson, and Rebecca Taylor of Cambridge Univer¬ 
sity Press for their help during various phases of the project. Furthermore, 
we acknowledge the Dutch National Science Foundation (NWO), for the 
financial support to start our investigation of political paranoia, which 
eventually resulted in the conference and in this book (NWO Conflict 
and Security grant W.07.68.103.00). Finally, we thank Nils Jostmann 
and Joel Vuolevi for their contributions especially to the research that 
followed from this grant. 

Power, politics, and paranoia are omnipresent. A book that seeks to 
understand and integrate these topics should be interesting to many 
people who enjoy being informed about the dynamics of political and 
corporate leadership. Beside the general interest, we think the book might 
be especially informative to students and scientists with an empirical or 
theoretical interest in the workings of power, politics, and paranoia in 
these domains. We also believe that practitioners might benefit from 
many of the chapters, as they deal with issues that are clearly relevant to 
how leaders should optimally behave and communicate in politics and 
organizations to develop strategies and attain important collective goals. 
Indeed, newspapers tell us all too often that political and organizational 
leadership is in need of considerable improvement and refinement. After 
all, small changes in leadership can bring about big effects. Whether your 
goal is empirical, theoretical, societal, or any combination, we hope that 
you as a reader will appreciate the many insights that this book has to 
offer, and that you will be as fascinated as we are about the intriguing 
relations between power, politics, and paranoia. 




1 


Power, politics, and paranoia: 
an introduction 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


Being a powerful leader is not an easy task in our modern age. Political 
leaders have the major responsibility of making decisions in the collective 
interest in the context of economic and financial crises, climate change, 
poverty, immigration, the threat of terrorism, and war. Corporate lead¬ 
ers must navigate their organization’s interest through increasingly fluc¬ 
tuating markets, changing customer demands, and rapid technological 
developments. The decision-making that takes place in these situations 
typically has to be negotiated with multiple parties that have different 
interests, often leading to heated debates and difficult compromises. 
Many of the resulting decisions have complex moral and financial impli¬ 
cations, can potentially have unpredictable consequences, and must be 
made under substantial time pressure. Moreover, the actions of societal 
leaders are under continuous public scrutiny. Political leaders are closely 
monitored by the media, while being praised and criticized by followers, 
opponents, opinion makers, and other citizens. Corporate leaders are 
accountable to stakeholders, policymakers, employees, and sometimes 
also the general public. Yet, the consequences of these powerful leaders’ 
decisions are immense, as they directly impact the life of many citizens 
in terms of jobs, income, well-being, and health. 

Citizens thus depend substantially on the quality of their leaders’ deci¬ 
sions, which are made in a challenging and error-prone environment. 
This raises the question of how citizens cope with the power that lead¬ 
ers within our society have over their lives, and to what extent they are 
willing to accord them the trust and legitimacy that is needed for them 
to function effectively as decision-makers (Tyler, 1997). One striking 
notion is that citizens often respond with suspicion of the morality of the 
actions and motives of their leaders. One indication for such suspicion is 
the volatility, polarization, and extremism that can be observed through¬ 
out the European Union (EU) and the USA. Due to recent scandals 
in the media pertaining to societal leaders (e.g., bonuses for managers; 
bank crashes), there is a substantial public awareness of the possibility 
of a failing political and economic system. As a consequence, people 


1 



2 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


frequently accuse leaders of secret, immoral - and sometimes even crim¬ 
inal - activities, as can be observed in the variety and widespread appeal 
of the conspiracy beliefs that many people endorse when trying to make 
sense of distressing societal events (e.g., Robins and Post, 1997; Sun- 
stein and Vermeule, 2009). Moreover, according to the global Edelman 
Trust Barometer 2013, 1 government officials are considered to be the 
least credible spokespeople throughout the world, and although there is 
substantial variation both within and between countries, trust in politi¬ 
cians tends, on average, to be low in absolute terms (see also Andeweg, 
this volume). Moreover, corporate leaders - such as CEOs - are also not 
considered to be very trustworthy according to this global survey. Still, 
such distrust clearly is not universal, as many leaders have a remarkable 
capacity of motivating, inspiring, and mobilizing large groups of people 
(Bass and Riggio, 2006). 

Inspired by these observations, the present edited volume seeks to 
address the following general question: Why, and under what conditions, 
are people suspicious of their leaders? There is no simple or straightfor¬ 
ward answer to this question. At the same time, we believe that suspicious 
beliefs about leaders can be better understood by appreciating the intense 
research efforts of many prominent scholars throughout the social and 
behavioral sciences. In various disciplines, academic researchers investi¬ 
gate hypotheses pertaining to relevant topics, such as the effects of power 
on perception and behavior, how the powerless perceive the powerful, 
unethical decision-making, trust and distrust, corruption, paranoia, and 
scapegoating. We therefore asked various prominent scholars within the 
social and behavioral sciences who have relevant research expertise - and 
are hence able to provide a unique and insightful perspective on this 
topic - to contribute a chapter representing their core ideas and findings. 
In integrating the thoughts and ideas of these scholars into the present 
book, our aim is to provide academics, students, and practitioners with 
a comprehensive and current overview of theorizing on power, politics, 
and paranoia, which may hopefully inspire further theoretical integra¬ 
tion, empirical research, and societal application. In the following, we 
describe the purpose of this book in greater detail by illuminating the 
origins of suspiciousness towards leaders. 


The origins of suspiciousness towards leaders 

To answer the general question of why people often are suspicious of 
their leaders, it may be illustrative to first examine how distrust emerges 

1 http://trust.edelman.com/ 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


3 


in a simple dyadic social structure. Suppose in any given social situation 
that a random actor A (e.g., a citizen) is suspicious of how well intended 
the actions and motives are of a random actor B (e.g., a leader). This 
suspiciousness can have at least two possible origins. The first possibil¬ 
ity is that the origins of this suspiciousness can be found in the actions 
of actor B. Actor B may behave in a way that is considered deceptive, 
manipulative, selfish, or otherwise unreliable by most people. In other 
words, actor A may be correctly suspicious, as actor B behaves in a way 
that can and should not be trusted. The second possibility, however, is 
that the origins of this suspiciousness may be found in the way actor A 
perceives, feels, or processes information about actor B. Actor A may 
interpret the ambiguous behavior of B more negatively than B intended 
in so behaving, a phenomenon that is closely related to errors in attri- 
butional processes such as the hostile attribution bias and the related 
sinister attribution bias (Kramer, 1998). In other words, actor A may be 
paranoid and misinterpret the good intentions of actor B. 

If we extrapolate this simple dyadic structure to the current discussion, 
the answer to the question of why people are suspicious of their leaders 
can be summarized as two broad possibilities: (1) leaders on average are 
less trustworthy than followers, and citizens are right to be suspicious; 
versus (2) citizens exaggerate their distrust of their leaders, and thus a lot 
of suspicious feelings are driven by paranoid cognitions among citizens. 
It is important to recognize that these two possibilities are not mutually 
exclusive. Powerful people may be less likely than powerless people to be 
trustworthy, but, at the same time, the power holders that are trustwor¬ 
thy may not always be correctly perceived as such by their followers. To 
fully understand people’s suspiciousness towards their leaders, it is nec¬ 
essary to closely investigate both possibilities, while challenging common 
assumptions that laypeople and scientists sometimes have. 

To examine these issues, the book is divided into three complementary 
parts. Part I - “power” - explores the possibility that power holders 
are less trustworthy than people who lack power. There are abundant 
examples of corrupt - even “evil” - power holders in history. At the same 
time, it must be recognized that such examples of corrupt power holders 
do not empirically prove that power corrupts, or that corrupt individuals 
are more likely to rise to power. As noted by Smith and Overbeck (this 
volume), the actions of power holders are more noticeable - and hence 
their negative actions are more salient - than if committed by someone 
who lacks power. In other words, drawing the conclusion that power 
corrupts based on everyday life examples of corrupt power holders alone 
is not hard evidence, and may be subject to biased perceptual processes 
(e.g., the illusory correlation). Moreover, there are also many power 


4 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

holders in everyday life who are moral authorities, suggesting that if 
there is a relation between power and unethical behavior, it certainly is 
not a straightforward and simple one. What is needed, therefore, is a fine¬ 
grained analysis of empirical research that statistically tests whether or 
not, and under what conditions, power holders are more likely to behave 
unethically than people who lack power. Four chapters examine these 
complex relations between power and ethical versus unethical decision¬ 
making. 

Part II - “politics” - explores the dynamics of distrust and power 
specifically in the political realm. The decisions made by political leaders 
influence a large group of people, leading politicians to be a category of 
power holder that has the potential of being viewed with a lot of suspi¬ 
cion in societal discourse. Political leaders thus constitute a prototypical 
category of power holder that is frequently distrusted by followers, as 
underscored by the Trust Barometer findings. We included a section in 
the book that is specifically focused on examining the question of how 
trust in and distrust of political leaders originate and are perpetuated. In 
five chapters, scholars assess citizens’ suspicious perceptions of political 
leaders from various angles. Specifically, the chapters address issues such 
as what stereotypes people tend to hold about politicians, how distrust of 
politicians emerges among disadvantaged groups in society, why citizens 
sometimes are willing to grant enormous power to political leaders (e.g., 
authoritarian regimes), why people sometimes endorse leaders who dis¬ 
play clear signs of corruption (i.e., the Italian case of Berlusconi), and 
whether or not the “confidence gap” (i.e., the extent to which citizens 
distrust politicians) has widened in recent decades. 

Part III - “paranoia” - investigates the psychological processes that 
lead people to be overly suspicious of power holders. A large portion 
of the population of Western countries believes in various conspiracy 
theories, and these numbers are too large to be accounted for by clini¬ 
cal forms of paranoia (Robins and Post, 1997; Sunstein and Vermeule, 
2009) . Indeed, it has been noted that paranoid cognition is a frequently 
occurring aspect of interpersonal perception in everyday life (Kramer, 
1998). Moreover, although some conspiracy theories have turned out to 
be true (e.g., the Watergate scandal; the Iran-Contra affair), the major¬ 
ity of conspiracy theories have turned out to be false (Pipes, 1997). 
In fact, people’s paranoid beliefs about societal leaders tend to suffer 
from internal inconsistencies. Research indicates that beliefs in mutually 
exclusive conspiracy theories - such as the belief that Princess Diana was 
assassinated versus the belief that she staged her own death - are pos¬ 
itively correlated (Wood, Douglas, and Sutton, 2012). This illustrates 
that it is impossible for all suspicious beliefs that people hold about their 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


5 


leaders to be true; hence, a substantial portion of these beliefs can only 
be misplaced paranoia. In six chapters, scholars examine the psycho¬ 
logical underpinnings of paranoid cognition, conspiracy beliefs, political 
enemyship, and scapegoating. We now more elaborately introduce each 
part in turn. 


Part I - power 

One of the editors of this book (van Prooijen) actively investigates belief in 
conspiracy theories, and has commented on this topic various times in the 
Dutch media. As a result, he sometimes receives email correspondence 
from Dutch citizens who are strongly suspicious of power holders and 
endorse a range of conspiracy theories. The messages vary substantially 
in reasoning sophistication and politeness (as does the corresponding 
likelihood of being replied to), but the overarching question is typically 
the same: “Did you ever consider the possibility that we are right to 
be suspicious, and that most leaders actually cannot be trusted?” The 
question is usually posed rhetorically, as if scientists never thought of that 
possibility. Admittedly, both editors are highly skeptical of most of the 
rather grandiose conspiracy theories that can be found on the internet. 
But at the same time, the underlying question whether or not there is a 
link between power and unethical behavior is a fair one, and one that can 
be tested empirically. 

Power is typically conceptualized and defined as control over other 
people’s outcomes (Fiske, 1993). Almost by definition, this implies that 
power holders have opportunities to exploit such outcome control for 
their own benefit. In other words, power creates the potential for power 
abuse, and corruption is common in all societies, including modern West¬ 
ern democracies (Graycar and Smith, 2011). Indeed, since the seminal 
publication ofKipnis (1972) on the question of whether or not power cor¬ 
rupts, decades of research have explored the influence of power on - for 
instance - perspective taking (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al ., 2006), stereo¬ 
typing (Fiske, 1993), ethical decision-making (Blader and Chen, 2012), 
hypocrisy (Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010), disinhibition (Hirsch, 
Galinsky, and Zong, 2011), and overconfidence (Fast, Sivanathan, Mayer 
et al., 2012). 

It is not hard to find examples of leaders who turned out not to be 
worthy of the public’s trust, in both the political and corporate world. 
Richard Nixon’s personal involvement in the Watergate affair under¬ 
scores that even at the highest political office people are not immune to 
the temptation of unethical decision-making and corruption. The Enron 
CEOs, blinded by greed, committed extensive fraud by exaggerating the 


6 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

company’s profits and embezzling millions of dollars, eventually lead¬ 
ing to the Enron bankruptcy. Bernard Madoff, chairman of one of the 
leading market-maker businesses on Wall Street, robbed thousands of 
people of their life savings with his fraudulent Ponzi scheme before being 
exposed as a conman. These are misdeeds of a highly immoral nature, 
even after we recognize that they are only minor infractions compared 
to the actions of powerful leaders who committed large-scale atrocities 
(Hitler, Stalin). 

But one cannot draw solid conclusions about the relation between 
power and unethical behavior based only on examples and anecdotes of 
immoral leaders. Many other leaders in history have been characterized 
by a high sense of morality and an admirable concern for the well-being 
and life circumstances of others. Mahatma Gandhi was the major leader 
of the Indian struggle for independence, which he managed to achieve 
through peaceful and violence-free resistance to the oppression of his 
people. Nelson Mandela spent much of his adult life in prison due to his 
opposition to the perverse system of apartheid, but he had the incredible 
capacity to forgive the very people who had incarcerated him once he was 
elected president of South Africa. Finally, the highly successful corporate 
leader Bill Gates has donated more money to charity in recent years than 
most EU countries did. Thus both moral and immoral societal leaders 
abound. What does the empirical evidence tell us about the relation 
between power and unethical behavior? 

The contribution by Lammers and van Beest (Chapter 2) addresses 
the effects of power on selfish and corrupt behavior. The chapter reveals 
that, at least under certain conditions, power leads people to feel entitled 
to take more than their fair share from a pool of scarce resources, and 
to compromise less in negotiations. Moreover, the authors suggest that 
power can corrupt for various reasons, such as its disinhibiting effects. 
These insights are complemented by correlational findings among soci¬ 
etal power holders (e.g., CEOs), revealing that power is associated with 
increased disinhibition, overrewarding of the self, and an increased like¬ 
lihood of infidelity in close relationships. 

These insights are further expanded upon in the contribution by 
Stamkou and Van Kleef (Chapter 3). They note that not only does power 
increase the prevalence of norm violations but also that actors who display 
certain forms of norm-violating behavior lead others to ascribe power to 
them - and this may fuel power affordances. Interestingly, such power 
affordances are fueled only by prosocial norm violations - that is, norm 
violations intended to benefit others - not by selfish norm violations. The 
authors discuss the implications of these findings in terms of how the rela¬ 
tion between norm violations and power affordances may be influenced 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


7 


by culture, as well as how norm violations may reinforce a hierarchical 
social structure through power affordances. 

Chapter 4 by Smith and Overbeck challenges the notion that power 
necessarily corrupts, and these authors highlight the positive effects of 
power. They describe that although power may corrupt sometimes, the 
evidence for these negative effects of power is much more mixed than 
is commonly assumed, and power frequently has positive effects such 
as increased individuation, communal relations, and prosocial behavior. 
Moreover, Smith and Overbeck provide evidence that - at least some¬ 
times, and possibly much more frequently than is recognized by scientists 
and laypeople - people perceive power holders as more moral and less cor¬ 
rupt than others. They then discuss the implications of these findings for 
putting the right people into powerful positions. 

Finally, Chapter 5 by Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers, and Scholl 
notes that power can be construed in two ways: (1) as opportunity to 
reach one’s own goals, and (2) as responsibility for others. They review 
evidence that power corrupts only if people construe it as opportu¬ 
nity, but not if they construe it as responsibility. However, Sassenberg 
and colleagues also reveal that the construal of power as opportunity is 
more attractive - and hence more likely to instigate strivings for power - 
than the construal of power as responsibility in Western cultures. These 
authors then discuss how culture and context determine how people 
construe power, and what the implications of these dynamics are for 
corruption. 


Part II - politics 

Part II on “politics” addresses suspicious perceptions in the context of 
a specific type of leader - namely, politicians. This is in all likelihood the 
category of leadership that is most visible and debated in our society. 
Not only are politicians closely monitored by popular media, but also the 
decisions made by politicians have an impact on the employment, finan¬ 
cial status, health, and general well-being of many people. Moreover, 
sometimes politicians have to make decisions that they believe to be nec¬ 
essary for the long-term collective interest, but that are clearly painful and 
negative to the specific short-term interests of various groups of people. 
The benefits of such decisions are typically disputed by opposing parties. 
Politicians thus are frequently associated with unpopular and debated 
decisions, and, as a consequence, it is likely that politicians often are 
target of substantial distrust, paranoid reactions, and conspiracy beliefs. 

Ironically, political leaders are presumably also the category of lead¬ 
ers who are most in need of trust by their followers. How long political 


8 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


leaders manage to stay in office depends strongly on the trust that they are 
accorded by citizens. Although all leaders benefit from the trust of their 
followers (Tyler, 1997), this does not match up to the case of politicians 
whose re-election depends in a directly linear fashion on how trustworthy 
they are perceived to be. This suggests an interesting paradox: Citizens 
on average have little trust in politicians, but the same citizens have the 
capacity to elect those same politicians to office in modern represen¬ 
tative democracies. It is, of course, likely that those who did not vote 
for a certain elected political leader are highly suspicious of that leader. 
It has been noted that the political left is notoriously suspicious of the 
political right, and vice versa (Inglehart, 1987). But an additional pos¬ 
sibility is that trust in specific politicians and political parties is fragile. 
These considerations suggest interesting dynamics pertaining to suspi¬ 
cious perceptions of political leaders, which deserve an in-depth analysis. 
The five chapters in the “politics” part of this volume provide such an 
analysis. 

In the first chapter of the “politics” part, Fiske and Durante (Chapter 
6) analyze the contents of the stereotypes that people endorse about 
politicians. In a variety of countries, people evaluated how the category 
of politicians maps on the stereotype dimensions of warmth and com¬ 
petence. The competence that people ascribe to politicians varies by 
country, but in all countries investigated, people placed politicians at 
the “cold” part of the warmth dimension - insincere, dishonest, “not- 
us.” These evaluations can be accounted for by the various negative 
emotions that politicians elicit, as well as by the interdependence struc¬ 
ture that characterizes a politician-voter relationship. Fiske and Durante 
conclude by discussing how relational accountability may regulate trust 
among voters. 

In Chapter 7, Bou Zeineddine and Pratto note that distrust among 
the disadvantaged is inherent to asymmetrical power structures due to 
a heightened sense of vulnerability and uncertainty whether one’s needs 
will be met. Applying this insight to the context of political distrust, these 
authors note that disadvantaged groups in modern societies increasingly 
experience a sense of empowerment to strive for better guarantees regard¬ 
ing the extent to which their basic needs are met. As such, an increased 
empowerment of the disadvantaged, in combination with a failure of 
authorities to address their needs, may increase political distrust. In 
concluding, they discuss the potential positive and negative effects that 
this distrust may have on emancipatory values, democracy, and social 
progress. 

Chapter 8 by Haller and Hogg addresses the question of why citi¬ 
zens sometimes are willing to accord extreme levels of power to political 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


9 


leaders. They note that, particularly in times of crisis and uncertainty, 
people desire strong and directive leadership. Building on social identity 
theory, uncertainty-identity theory, and the social identity theory of lead¬ 
ership, they note that uncertainty increases identification with groups and 
the desire for a prototypical leader. Extreme uncertainty, however, may 
lead people to particularly identify with groups that are highly entitative, 
with simple prototypes and a rigid hierarchy. As a consequence, extremely 
uncertain societal circumstances may motivate people to endorse leaders 
that are extreme, ideologically rigid, and authoritarian. These insights 
contribute to the important question of how many authoritarian regimes 
of the twentieth century could rise to power. 

Chapter 9 by Chirumbolo and Leone then addresses a counterintuitive 
but real phenomenon: Why do many people sometimes vote for political 
leaders that are quite explicitly associated with immoral conduct and 
corruption? They specifically focus on the Italian case of Berlusconi, who 
throughout the years has received substantial support from voters, and 
has been elected prime minister multiple times, despite official corruption 
charges, court trials, and other (e.g., sex) scandals. Chirumbolo and 
Leone then analyze the sociopolitical attitudes, values, and personality, 
of citizens who voted for Berlusconi, and develop a profile of people who 
continually support this controversial leader. 

Finally, in Chapter 10 by Andeweg, the author notes that there seems 
to be a confidence gap in the EU - referring to the distrust that citizens 
display in political parties and politicians - but challenges the frequently 
held assumption that the confidence gap between citizens and politicians 
has widened in recent decades. This author analyzes longitudinal data 
about political trust in many EU countries to determine whether there is 
any evidence for a widening confidence gap. The data reveal that although 
trust in political parties and politicians tends to be low in absolute terms, 
there is no evidence for a widening confidence gap. Changes in trust over 
time seem to be fluctuations rather than trends, and vary substantially 
between and (particularly) within countries. Andeweg concludes that 
despite the tenacity of such a belief, the widening of the confidence gap 
may be as real as the Loch Ness Monster. 


Part III - paranoia 

The final part of the book - on “paranoia” - seeks to explain the fact 
that many citizens hold suspicious beliefs about leaders that arguably are 
far-fetched, or at least inconsistent with other suspicious beliefs that are 
endorsed by the same perceivers (Wood et al., 2012). On many inter¬ 
net sites one can find conspiracy theories about (for instance) NASA 


10 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

faking the Moon landings, the Bush government orchestrating the attacks 
on 9/11, or climate change being a hoax imposed on citizens to attain 
some evil goal. Despite the superhuman level of power, organizational 
skill, and malevolent intent that these theories sometimes assume, a sub¬ 
stantial proportion of the human population believes in, or at least takes 
seriously, many such theories (Robins and Post, 1997; Sunstein and Ver- 
meule, 2009; see also Swami and Furnham, this volume; van Prooijen 
and van Lange, this volume). The prevalence of such suspicious beliefs 
suggests that political paranoia serves some psychological function for 
perceivers. Indeed, various authors have noted that paranoid social cog¬ 
nition, as well as belief in conspiracy theories, serves the mental function 
of regulating uncertainty by making sense of distressing societal events 
(e.g., Hofstadter, 1966; Kramer, 1998; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). 
In a related fashion, it has been noted that people attribute increased 
power to their enemies to regulate uncertainty; after all, one can under¬ 
stand, and anticipate, the actions of a recognizable immoral agent (Sul¬ 
livan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010). These arguments illustrate that 
paranoid social cognition, conspiracy beliefs, perceived enemyship, and 
scapegoating may be grounded in the normal underlying psychological 
processes of seeking control and trying to make sense of the world. 

Although paranoid beliefs may be psychologically functional for per¬ 
ceivers, one may wonder how functional such beliefs are for others in the 
social environment and society at large. It is conceivable that being skepti¬ 
cal and vigilant about the actions of powerful people or groups is adaptive 
as it might make citizens less vulnerable to exploitation while increasing 
power holders’ sense of accountability for their actions. Moreover, a cer¬ 
tain amount of distrust may provide impetus to social change and the 
development of emancipatory values (Bou Zeineddine and Pratto, this 
volume). But exaggerated distrust and suspicion are likely to be a reason 
for concern, for various reasons. First, deteriorated relations between 
leaders and followers undermine the legitimacy that leaders need for 
good governance (Tyler, 1997). Indeed, empirical research reveals that 
conspiracy beliefs decrease people’s intention to engage in politics (Jol¬ 
ley and Douglas, in press). Moreover, conspiracy beliefs can lead people 
to make bad choices that influence important life outcomes, such as 
their health (e.g., Swami and Furnham, this volume; Thornburn and 
Bogart, 2005). Finally, there is the serious danger of the interpersonal 
and intergroup conflict, hate crime, and violence that may emerge from 
these paranoid beliefs. Taking this latter issue to the extreme, historical 
records suggest that many of the major atrocities in the twentieth cen¬ 
tury were substantially fueled by paranoid beliefs about other groups. 
For instance, one of the core beliefs underlying the Holocaust was that 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


11 


Jewish people were conspiring to achieve world domination, as through 
communism (Midlarsky, 2011; Pipes, 1999). Likewise, many people in 
communist regimes were killed because of their alleged connection to the 
West, which made them potential enemies of the state or spies. Although 
one might note that these tragedies were rather extreme, and presumably 
grounded in extreme paranoia, they nevertheless underscore the dramatic 
consequences that suspicious beliefs about other peoples or groups can 
potentially have. 

In the first chapter (11) of the “paranoia” part, Kramer and Schaf¬ 
fer address the origins of out-group paranoia, which they conceptualize 
as extreme suspicion and distrust between groups in the context of the 
hierarchical trust dilemma. Such dilemmas are characterized by asymme¬ 
tries in the level of power and dependence between groups. Kramer and 
Schaffer then present a model of how, in these dilemmas, perceptions of 
vulnerability and threat elicit psychological processes that ultimately lead 
to out-group paranoia. Through hypervigilance and dysphoric rumina¬ 
tion, three specific forms of intergroup misperception may emerge that 
contribute to such out-group paranoia - namely, the overly personalistic 
construal of intergroup interactions, the sinister attribution bias, and the 
exaggerated perception of conspiracy. 

In Chapter 12, Swami and Furnham examine the roots of conspiracy 
theories. They first conceptualize and define what a conspiracy theory is, 
after which they review sociological and psychological research that has 
examined this phenomenon. Specifically, they argue that, much like other 
belief systems, conspiracy theories fill a need for certainty, control, and 
understanding, offering a coherent account of events that are otherwise 
difficult to understand. Furthermore, Swami and Furnham review the 
psychological processes that contribute to conspiracy beliefs, such as the 
fundamental attribution error, attitude or group polarization, and various 
personality and individual differences. They conclude their chapter by 
discussing the implications of conspiracy beliefs for societal and political 
functioning. 

Chapter 13 by van Prooijen and van Lange seeks to illuminate the 
social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories. They argue that most 
conspiracy beliefs are an intergroup phenomenon that follows from the 
perception that an out-group is threatening one’s in-group. This distin¬ 
guishes conspiracy beliefs in important ways from interpersonal para¬ 
noia, which is characterized by a belief that others are trying to harm 
a perceiver personally. Van Prooijen and van Lange then present evi¬ 
dence for the proposition that conspiracy beliefs are fueled by feelings 
of rejection by a powerful out-group, as well as a strong feeling of being 
connected to one’s in-group. Their conclusion is that conspiracy beliefs 


12 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

can be meaningfully conceptualized as the result of perceived intergroup 
threat. 

In Chapter 14, Sutton and Douglas examine the monological nature of 
conspiracy beliefs. Specifically, they pose the question of why people who 
believe in one conspiracy theory are more likely to also believe another 
conspiracy theory. The dominant explanation for this phenomenon is 
that conspiracy beliefs are part of a monological belief system, character¬ 
ized by closed-mindedness and a nomothethic explanatory style. Sutton 
and Douglas review a range of situational and personality variables that 
predict conspiracy beliefs, and consider the implications of the available 
evidence for the idea that conspiracy beliefs are part of a monological 
mind-set. They conclude that at present there is insufficient evidence to 
prove that conspiracy beliefs are indeed monological in nature, and that 
there are alternative mechanisms that may explain the strong correlations 
between different conspiracy beliefs. 

Chapter 15 by Wilson and Rose focuses on political and cultural expla¬ 
nations to explain belief in conspiracy theories. Using a dual-process 
motivational framework, they explain how paranoia, on the one hand, 
and the sociopolitical variables of right-wing authoritarianism (RWA) 
and social dominance orientation (SDO), on the other hand, can predict 
belief in conspiracy theories. They note that people who score high on 
RWA more easily see social events as a threat to security, while people who 
score high on SDO more easily see social events as a threat to hierarchy, 
either of which factors may independently stimulate conspiracy beliefs. 
In addition, Wilson and colleagues present recent research findings on 
the relation between paranoia, RWA, SDO, and conspiracy beliefs. 

In the final chapter (16), Sullivan, Landau, Rothschild, and Keefer 
examine the existential roots of political enemyship, and the related 
construct of scapegoating. They theorize that the perception of hav¬ 
ing personal and political enemies allows individuals to maintain a sense 
of personal control and a valued identity. Using insights derived from 
terror-management theory, Sullivan and colleagues note that enemyship 
serves four existential functions: death denial, identity maintenance, con¬ 
trol maintenance, and guilt denial. They review the evidence for these 
four existential functions of enemyship, and supplement their existential 
theory of enemyship with sociological insights that specify how social 
constructions of enemies imbue them with certain characteristics. More¬ 
over, they delineate under which social circumstances enemyship and 
scapegoating are generally likely to occur, and how social circumstances 
can predict qualitative variation in the specific enemyship and scapegoat¬ 
ing phenomena that may arise. 


Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 


13 


Closing remarks 

To return to the broader issue of why people sometimes are suspicious 
of their leaders, many people in everyday life occasionally encounter 
a corrupt leader, and many people occasionally may be paranoid. The 
question, however, is not whether corrupt leadership or political paranoia 
occurs, but, rather, whether there exist behavioral and cognitive regular¬ 
ities in these phenomena that can be scientifically predicted, explained, 
and modified. The present book addresses this issue in the context of cur¬ 
rent research on topics related to power, politics, and paranoia. It is our 
hope that the chapters in the present volume may inspire researchers and 
practitioners in their efforts to establish or maintain morally responsible 
and effective governance which is accountable to a public that is charac¬ 
terized by a constructively critical mind-set without displaying excessive 
paranoia. 


References 

Bass, B. M., and Riggio, R. E. (2006). Transformational leadership (2nd edn.). 
Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. 

Blader, S. L., and Chen, Y.-R. (2012). Differentiating the effects of status and 
power: a justice perspective. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 102, 
994-1014. 

Fast, N. J., Sivanathan, N., Mayer, N. D., and Galinsky, A. D. (2012). Power and 
overconfident decision-making. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision 
Processes, 117, 249-60. 

Fiske, S. T. (1993). Controlling other people: the impact of power on stereotyp¬ 
ing. American Psychologist, 48, 621-8. 

Galinsky, A. D., Magee, J. C., Inesi, M. E., and Gruenfeld, D. H. (2006). Power 
and perspectives not taken. Psychological Science, 17, 1068-74. 

Graycar, A., and Smith, R. G. (2011). Handbook of global research and practice in 
corruption. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar. 

Hirsch, J. B., Galinsky, A. D., and Zhong, C.-B. (2011). Drunk, powerful, and 
in the dark: how general processes of disinhibition produce both prosocial 
and antisocial behavior. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 6, 415-27. 

Hofstadter, R. (1966). The paranoid style in American politics. In R. Hof- 
stadter. The paranoid style in American politics and other essays (pp. 3-40). 
New York: Knopf. 

Inglehart, R. (1987). Extremist political position and perceptions of conspiracy: 
even paranoids have real enemies. In C. F. Graumann and S. Moscovici 
(Eds.), Changing conceptions of conspiracy (pp. 231-44). New York: Springer- 
Verlag. 

Jolley, D., and Douglas, K. M. (in press). The social consequences of conspir- 
acism: exposure to conspiracy theories decreases intentions to engage in 
politics and to reduce one’s carbon footprints. British Journal of Psychology. 



14 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paid A. M. van Lange 

Kipnis, D. (1972). Does power corrupt? Journal of Personality and Social Psychol¬ 
ogy, 24, 33-41. 

Kramer, R. M. (1998). Paranoid cognition in social systems: thinking and acting 
in the shadow of doubt. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 2, 251-75. 

Lammers, J., Stapel, D., and Galinsky, A. D. (2010). Power increases hypocrisy: 
moralizing in reasoning, immorality in behavior. Psychological Science, 21, 
737-44. 

Midlarsky, M. I. (2011). Origins of political extremism. New York: Cambridge 
University Press. 

Pipes, D. (1997). Conspiracy: how the paranoid style flourishes and where it comes 
from. New York: Simon and Schuster. 

Robins, R. S., and Post, J. M. (1997). Political paranoia: the psychopolitics of hatred. 
New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. 

Sullivan, D., Landau, M. J., and Rothschild, Z. K. (2010). An existential func¬ 
tion of enemyship: evidence that people attribute influence to personal and 
political enemies to compensate for threats to control. Journal of Personality 
and Social Psychology, 98, 434-49. 

Sunstein, C. R., and Vermeule, A. (2009). Conspiracy theories: causes and cures. 
Journal of Political Philosophy, 17, 202-27. 

Thorburn, S., and Bogart, L. M. (2005). Conspiracy beliefs about birth control: 
barriers to pregnancy prevention among African Americans of reproductive 
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Tyler, T. R. (1997). The psychology of legitimacy. Personality and Social Psychol¬ 
ogy Review, 1, 323-44. 

Whitson, J. A., and Galinsky, A. D. (2008). Lacking control increases illusory 
pattern perception. Science, 322, 115-17. 

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contradictory conspiracy theories. Social Psychological and Personality Science, 
3, 767-73. 



Part I 


Power 




2 The effects of power on immorality 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


In almost all modern democracies, many citizens feel alienated from pol¬ 
itics. They lack confidence in politicians and experience a “gap” between 
their own reality as citizens and the reality that politicians move in. They 
distrust politicians and lack confidence in their ability to deal with what 
they see as the most important issues of today (e.g., Bynner and Ashford, 
1994; Crozier, Huntington, and Watanuki, 1975; Kabashima, Marshall, 
Uekami et al ., 2000; Lipset and Schneider, 1983; Norris, 1999; Nye, 
Zelikow, and King, 1997; Pharr and Putnam, 2000; Pharr, Putnam, 
and Dalton, 2000; for a meta-analysis, see Dalton, 1999). To be clear, 
this lack of trust and confidence does not mean that people favor the 
introduction of fascism, communism, or any other nondemocratic form 
of government (Kaase and Newton, 1995; Norris, 1999). It is also not 
specifically directed towards those politicians who happen to rule at this 
moment; turning current politicians out and electing new ones does not 
restore this lack of confidence (Andeweg, 1996). Rather, what seems 
to underlie this lack of trust and confidence is a general gloom and pes¬ 
simism about politicians. It is felt that the attention of politicians is aimed 
at people’s votes and not their interests or opinions. As soon as politicians 
are elected, they forget about their voters. 

There may be many explanations for this lack of confidence. For exam¬ 
ple, one explanation may be that the mass media has become more and 
more sensational and focused on private scandals. Another explanation 
may be that society’s increasing complexity makes it relatively hard to dis¬ 
cern any positive impact of current government, leading to a perception 
that politicians lack either the willingness or the ability to bring about 
any real changes. But the present book focuses on a different, perhaps 
more fundamental, explanation, and aims to investigate whether people 
lack confidence in their leaders simply because they are fundamentally 
suspicious about people with power - such as politicians. Such suspicion 
of powerful people is not new - in fact, it is recurrent across the centuries. 
In the Athenian democracy of the fourth century BC, Plato (1998) had 
already observed that whatever politicians gained in power they lost in 


17 



18 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


morality. Plato believed that power almost necessarily leads to corrup¬ 
tion, selfishness, and dishonesty. In fact, according to him, this link from 
power to corruption was so strong that it could only be broken by special 
training. Since then, Plato’s dim view of power has often been echoed - 
interestingly, even by people who have had first-hand experience of hav¬ 
ing power, such as Marcus Aurelius (writing in AD 167) (1989), Leo 
Tolstoy (1935/1894), or Lord Acton (1972/1887), who coined the adage, 
“Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” 

By virtue of use and repetition, Lord Acton’s words and - more gen¬ 
erally - the idea that power undermines the fundamentals of morality 
have almost reached the status of a universal truth, the veracity so much 
beyond doubt that questioning it would only demonstrate one’s naivety. 
After all, hardly a day goes by without some scandal or misbehavior 
among the more powerful of our society. Think of Silvio Berlusconi’s 
bunga bunga sex parties with underage girls, Bernard Madoff’s Ponzi 
scheme, or Richard Nixon’s bugging of the Democratic Party headquar¬ 
ters at the Watergate Hotel. In fact, such scandals follow each other so 
quickly that some wonder how politicians find the time to govern. Time 
and again, we hear of powerful people with an important function who 
violate the most basic norms, principles, and values of our society and 
who seem to feel entitled to place themselves beyond the rules that govern 
mere mortals. 

But anecdotes and observations alone - even if made by Plato or Tol¬ 
stoy - do not prove that power indeed corrupts. It may very well be that 
we often hear about sex scandals among politicians and other powerful 
people simply because the powerful are followed more closely by the 
media. If John Doe holds a sex party it is not news; if Berlusconi does, 
it is. It may also be that power is by itself not a corrupting force - to 
follow Lord Acton - but that it merely attracts the corruptible. Perhaps 
those who are interested in immorality are more likely to be attracted 
to a powerful position. The aim of the present chapter is therefore to 
give an overview of empirical research on the link between power and 
corruption, to test the truth of Lord Acton’s adage. 

The research that we discuss studies the effects of power not by looking 
at the behavior of politicians and powerful people, but by looking at ordi¬ 
nary people. This research assumes that if power has general corruptive 
effects, then even “ordinary” people, such as students or average citizens, 
should show essentially the same corrupt behaviors whenever they have 
power - although perhaps in a more diluted form. 

In discussing this research on power, we make one fundamental 
distinction - namely, that between positions of power and feelings of 
power. Positions of power occur when people have more control over an 


The effects of power on immorality 


19 


outcome. For example, they have more control over negotiations. But 
positions of power also bring feelings of power. People who are regularly 
in a powerful role may start to see themselves differently. They start to 
have persistent feelings of power. Such feelings also affect behavior. As 
we will argue, a key difference is that positions of power bring considera¬ 
tions on how to use that power, while feelings of power do not necessarily 
do so. We will first discuss research into positions of power. 


Positions of power 

The effects of positions of power are often studied by using an exper¬ 
imental game paradigm. Typically, researchers using this paradigm ask 
participants to play a game in which they can obtain or win something - 
money, for example. Often they do so by negotiating with another party. 
In game theory, researchers then study how changing some of the param¬ 
eters of that game affects players’ choices. When studying power, the 
parameter of interest is control. If one player has more control over his 
own or others’ outcomes, this player can be said to have a more powerful 
position. 

Within this paradigm, the most basic conclusion is that if players lack 
power in a negotiation, they are more likely to give in to the other party. 
For example, De Dreu (1995) conducted a study in which he had players 
negotiate with an opponent (who, in reality, was played by a computer), 
and he manipulated the power of those players versus their opponents by 
manipulating the ability of both parties to hurt the other party. Both par¬ 
ties were told they had the ability to lower the other party’s assets (a form 
of coercive power), but, crucially, this ability differed between conditions. 
Some players could lower the other party’s assets only a bit (by 20%), 
while other players read in the instructions of the experiment that they 
could lower it substantially (by 50%) or greatly (by 80%). Furthermore, 
participants also read that their opponent could lower their assets. Again, 
some read that their assets could be lowered by 20%, while others read 
thatthey could be lowered by 50% or 80%. Hence, the coercive power 
of the players and of their opponents was manipulated independently. 
The results showed that concession making mainly depended on the per¬ 
ceived coercive power of the opponent. If participants thought that their 
opponents had a lot of coercive power, they made lower demands. 

Handgraaf, van Dijk, Vermunt et al. (2008) reported somewhat similar 
findings - albeit with an interesting twist. In the first place, they relied on 
a different way to manipulate power. Specifically, they had participants 
play a negotiation game, in which they were asked to distribute 100 chips 
that in total were worth about $5, between themselves and a recipient. 


20 Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 

This recipient could either accept this distribution or reject it. The crucial 
manipulation involved what the consequences were in case of rejection. 
In one condition, rejection would mean that neither party would receive 
anything. In this condition, the participant and recipient did not differ 
much in their power over outcomes. After all, although participants could 
propose a very unequal distribution (for example, 51 for the recipient 
and $4 for themselves), the recipient would most likely find this unfair 
and reject it, leaving both parties with nothing. The participants should 
therefore stay close to an equal distribution. Accordingly, participants 
offered on average to give about $2.39 to the recipient and kept 52.61 
themselves. 

Three other conditions demonstrated this by manipulating the conse¬ 
quences of rejection by the recipient. Specifically, in a second condition, 
participants were told that if the recipient rejected the offer, the partici¬ 
pant would still receive 10% of the offer. In this case they reduced their 
offer by 23 cents, from 52.39 to to $2.16. Stated differently, if partici¬ 
pants were less dependent on the recipient’s decision - in other words, 
if they had more power - then they proposed to keep more money for 
themselves and proposed to share less money with the recipient. It there¬ 
fore should not be surprising that participants in a third condition, who 
were told that rejection would mean that they would still receive 90% 
of the offer, offered a mere 51-80 (keeping for themselves 53.20). These 
participants had almost complete control over the outcome and were 
almost completely independent of the decision of the recipient. 

Crucially, however, participants in a fourth condition were told that 
the decision of the recipient would not affect the distribution at all. That 
is, the participant’s distribution was always followed, independent of the 
recipient’s decision to accept or reject. Or, in other words, rejection would 
mean that they received 100% of the offer. This position may be seen 
as one of omnipotence; the participant has complete control over the 
outcome and is completely independent of the decisions of the recipient. 
Note that in this condition, economic rationality would predict that the 
participants would propose a “distribution” in which they would get 
all of the 55 and the recipient would get nothing. But Handgraaf and 
colleagues found that, on average, participants still gave 52.22. Note that 
this is descriptively more - not less - than the 51-80 they offered if they 
had almost complete (90%) control over the outcomes. 

Handgraaf and colleagues explained this finding by noting that if peo¬ 
ple are in an omnipotent position feelings of care take over. People no 
longer try to get the best possible deal and force the opponent into 
accepting a low offer, but rather experience a sense of noblesse oblige. 
The authors therefore conclude that only the first part of Lord Acton’s 



The effects of power on immorality 


21 


statement is true - not the second. Power corrupts - in the sense at least 
that it makes people more selfish - but absolute power produces care and 
compassion. 

Focusing on another aspect of immoral behavior than outright force, 
Koning, Steinel, van Beest et al. (2011) asked whether power can also 
increase people’s inclination to deceive others. One way to deceive others 
is by proposing an offer that seems attractive to them, but in reality 
is only attractive to oneself. Power was manipulated by giving either the 
allocator or the recipient the opportunity to destroy the outcomes of their 
counterpart. Furthermore, both allocator and recipient were given the 
opportunity to lie about the actual value of the payoffs. Contradicting the 
idea that it is mainly the powerful who engage in dishonesty, the results 
revealed that recipients who lacked power were the most likely to use 
deception. The authors explained this by noting that participants mainly 
deceive the other party if this is their only option. Powerful negotiators 
simply use their power, but powerless parties need to be cunning. This 
observation, of course, runs against the idea that corruption is limited to 
those who have power. The powerless may also show dishonest, selfish 
behavior, if this is their only way to defend their interests. 

In summary, people who hold a more powerful position are more likely 
to use this power and take a larger piece of the pie. Power allows people 
to force the other party to accept a less attractive option. They may 
be less likely to share or try to reach a compromise but rather rely on 
their ability to force their negotiating partner to accept a worse deal. Of 
course, this is not always the case. In negotiations, other considerations, 
such as honesty and fairness, can also affect outcomes (e.g., van Beest, 
Steinel, and Murnighan, 2011; van Beest and van Dijk, 2007). Such 
considerations of honesty and fairness are likely to emerge if the powerful 
become all-powerful. In such a situation of omnipotence, the powerful 
may be less motivated to get the most out of it, but instead care for the 
less powerful. Furthermore, although lacking power generally reduces 
people’s tendency to try to openly force the other party to accept a less 
attractive option, this does not mean that the powerless let themselves 
be passively forced into a rotten deal. For example, they may be more 
likely to use deception, if this is possible. Conversely, those who are in a 
powerful position are less likely to degrade themselves by trying to trick 
or swindle their opponent. Who needs deception if one can freely take? 


Feelings of power 

Positions of power can also bring feelings of power. Usually, the two 
go hand in hand. If one has a powerful position, one may start to feel 


22 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


powerful. But feelings of power can also have an effect outside the power 
relationship. Managers may, for example, have power over their employ¬ 
ees and therefore feel powerful. These feelings of power may become 
chronic, in the sense that managers even feel that sense of power if they 
are in a different context. These feelings may even change the person¬ 
ality of those managers. As such, these feelings of power have also been 
studied. A simple way to study power is to prime feelings of power. This 
can be done in a variety of ways, but an often-used technique is simply to 
ask respondents to briefly recall a personal experience in which they had 
power (Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee, 2003). Participants are asked 
to provide a short diary entry about that experience and describe what 
happened and how it made them feel. The trick about this is that if peo¬ 
ple recall such experiences in which they had power, then the feelings 
associated with that experience return and affect subsequent decisions. 
It is easy to imagine that if you think back about your wedding or another 
happy day, you will re-experience the feelings associated with that day 
and that this will lead to a happy mood. This happy mood will linger and 
may affect decisions that you afterwards make - even if the thoughts of 
your wedding have already left your conscious mind. The same can be 
done with feelings of power. 

Other techniques involve having participants adopt either a high-power 
or low-power pose, by asking them either to expand or contract the body 
(Carney, Cuddy, and Yap, 2010), or having participants sit in either large, 
comfortable chairs that we associate with positions of power or in uncom¬ 
fortable, plastic, collapsible chairs that we associate with powerlessness 
(Berdahl and Martorana, 2006). Even more minimally, participants can 
also be merely exposed to words associated with power, such as “dom¬ 
inance” or “control” (e.g., Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001). Such 
words can, for example, be included in a word-search puzzle that the 
respondent is asked to solve, or they may be briefly flashed on a com¬ 
puter screen (so fast that the respondent cannot consciously read them). 

Typically, participants behave differently after such a power-priming 
task than after a control condition, in which participants are not exposed 
to the concept of power. Interestingly, these effects occur independently 
of any awareness of them by the participant. That is, participants are 
often unaware of why researchers use these manipulations and that they 
are used to induce feelings of power. This suggests that power can change 
people without their awareness that such a change occurs. 

Moreover, despite the minimal nature of such power primes, the artifi¬ 
cially induced feelings of power that result from them have a wide variety 
of perceptual, motivational, and behavioral effects. The present chapter 
does not have space for a complete overview, but a common analogy to 


The effects of power on immorality 


23 


summarize at least some of the effects of such manipulated feelings of 
power is that they resemble those of alcohol (Hirsh, Galinsky, and Zhong, 
2011). One reason why people drink alcohol in social situations such as 
parties is that it has a disinhibiting effect. It loosens up, adds fuel to the 
impulses, and helps overcome natural inhibitions. Everything that peo¬ 
ple do at parties - talking, dancing, flirting - they do with more intensity 
after drinking some alcohol. Power has similar effects. It leads to a more 
disinhibited mind-set, whereby the powerful trust their feelings more and 
follow their impulses (Anderson and Berdahl, 2002; Keltner, Gruenfeld, 
and Anderson, 2003). People who do not experience strong feelings of 
power hold themselves back, carefully think twice before acting, and con¬ 
sider first what others might think of their actions. But powerful people 
do not. If they have their eyes fixed on something, they are more likely to 
plunge themselves into action and follow their impulses (Galinsky et al., 
2003). 

Although some impulses may be good, many of our impulses can lead 
to selfishness, materialism, and greed. Our desires for money, status, 
luxury, and sex form just some of the temptations and attractions that 
we face on a daily basis. Because powerful people are more disinhibited 
and likely to follow their impulses, they are less likely to resist such 
temptations (Galinsky et al., 2003; Hirsh et al., 2011). This makes them 
more likely to break moral rules. In a study by Lammers, Stapel, and 
Galinsky (2010a), for example, Dutch university students were presented 
with a dilemma about a stolen bike. In The Netherlands, bike theft is quite 
endemic, and it is not uncommon to find stolen bikes abandoned along 
the road. Technically, these should be reported to the police, but it is 
generally known that - unless it is a fancy, new bike - the previous owner is 
not likely to check at the police station in the hope of reclaiming the bike. 
The price of a new lock is often higher than that of the bike. Lammers 
and colleagues asked students whether they thought it permissible to 
appropriate such a stolen bike, and found that feelings of power made 
participants more likely to defend such behavior. 

An interesting twist occurred, however, if participants were asked 
instead whether it would be acceptable if Mark - an anonymous, fic¬ 
tional protagonist - behaved in this way. Lammers and colleagues rea¬ 
soned that, although people are tempted to take an old bike, they at the 
same time also feel an impulse to judge others for doing the same. After 
all, if someone else takes a stolen bike, it may be mine! They indeed 
found that feelings of power made participants stricter in judging Mark. 
Now the powerful suddenly found it quite unacceptable! Thus, feelings 
of power can increase hypocrisy; that is, the tendency to condemn others 
for violating the same rules as oneself. Power serves as a reminder to be 


24 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


stricter on others, but it also serves as a cue that leads people to pursue 
their own interests more. 

Again it should be stressed that the disinhibiting effect of power that 
drives this is by itself neither corruptive nor commendable. After all, it 
only amplifies existing impulses. If those impulses are good, then power 
leads to benevolence (Chen et al., 2001; Galinsky et al., 2003; Hirsh 
et al., 2011). A further reason why power is not necessarily corruptive lies 
in the experience of power itself. When studying the link between power 
and hypocrisy, Lammers and colleagues also found that this power —> 
hypocrisy effect disappeared if people were not asked to recall a common, 
standard feeling of power, but instead were asked to recall a feeling of 
power that was undeserved or illegitimate. Participants were instructed to 
recall situations where they experienced a position of power that they felt 
they were not entitled to. When presented with the bike dilemma, these 
people did not show hypocrisy at all. In fact, they were even were harsher 
on themselves than on others - a reversal that Lammers and colleagues 
termed “hypercrisy.” This finding fits in a wider literature showing that 
many effects of power reverse if the powerful feel that their position is 
unfair (e.g., Lammers, Galinsky, Gordijn et al., 2008; Rodriguez-Bailon, 
Moya, and Yzerbyt, 2000; Sligte, De Dreu, and Nijstad, 2011; Willis, 
Guinote, and Rodriguez-Bailon, 2010). 

These results suggest that people with power take more not only 
because they can get away with it - a function of the position of power, as 
discussed in the previous section of this chapter - but also because their 
mere feelings of power make them feel in some way entitled or privileged. 
After all, if this sense of entitlement is removed, by having the powerful 
think of an experience of undeserved power, the effect disappears. In 
fact, the word “privilege,” which is derived from the Latin privus (“pri¬ 
vate”) and lex (“law”), literally means a private law or individual right to 
act differently from the rest, exactly describing how the powerful seem 
to take their position for granted. This therefore suggests that power is 
particularly corruptive if it is not questioned. Unquestioned power leads 
to hypocrisy. To avoid moral corruption, power should be questioned. 

Nonetheless, there is also research that warns against that same con¬ 
clusion. In fact, this research shows that questioning power can even 
exacerbate power’s corruptive tendencies. More specifically, this research 
focuses on the dangers of power without status. This is a classic idea that 
dates back to Max Weber’s (1991/1946) thoughts about the importance 
of status. Weber noted that judges have significant power in our society. 
They may sentence people to large fines and years of imprisonment. To 
accompany this great power, judges are also required to dress in a par¬ 
ticular manner. They wear clothes that no other person would wear, to 


The effects of power on immorality 


25 


symbolize that their power is not their own but that of the state. This 
status symbol not only restricts their power (they cannot sentence people 
outside their role) but also supports the exercise of power within that 
role. It adds status to their power. Research by Fast and colleagues (Fast 
and Chen, 2009; Fast, Flalevy, and Galinsky, 2012) shows that if power 
is not accompanied by status, it can lead to undesired side effects. For 
example, in one study, participants who were given power but also a low- 
status role were more likely to abuse that power and order subordinates 
to engage in demeaning activities, such as barking like a dog or telling 
themselves that they are unworthy (Fast et al., 2012). Another line of 
research shows that if participants are given a high-power position, but 
actually feel inadequate, they are more likely to be aggressive towards 
subordinates, in order to boost and restore their threatened egos (Fast 
and Chen, 2009). 

These findings - that those who feel powerful but also believe that they 
lack status or competence are more aggressive towards others - seem 
inconsistent with the earlier finding on the moderating role of illegiti¬ 
macy. After all, power that lacks status or is not based on competence 
may be seen as less legitimate and therefore should be associated with 
inhibition (and therefore reduced aggression). The solution to this incon¬ 
sistency seems to be that it may crucially depend on whether the powerful 
internalize feelings of illegitimacy. In the priming instructions used in the 
research by Lammers and colleagues, respondents are asked to recall an 
experience of power that they feel to have been undeserved. They there¬ 
fore themselves question the legitimacy of their power. But in the research 
by Fast and Chen (2009), for example, the powerful who lack status and 
competency are likely to be more focused on whether others see their 
position as illegitimate. Aggression is then a functional response, as it 
may help to defend one’s position. 

In summary, much like the research discussed in the first section, on 
positions of power, this second body of research, on feelings of power, 
also in part supports Lord Acton’s adage and in part qualifies it. Like 
the research mentioned in the first section, it also supports the idea that 
power can be corruptive. Yet it shows that this is mainly the case because 
power disinhibits and therefore adds fuel to the pursuit of impulses. If 
those impulses are bad, then power leads to immoral behavior. But if 
those impulses are good, then power amplifies these positive tendencies. 
In that case, power elevates. 

The support for the second part of Lord Acton’s idea, that absolute 
power corrupts absolutely, is also mixed. Some research shows that the 
disinhibiting effects of power are strong if power is seen as legitimate, but 
are weak or even reversed if power is seen as illegitimate. This suggests 


26 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


that if power is questioned (if it is portrayed as illegitimate), its possibly 
corruptive effects decrease. On the other hand, questioning power can 
also have negative effects. If the powerful feel that others see them as 
incompetent or do not give them the status that they feel entitled to, then 
this may lead to even more corrupted behaviors. 


Actual differences in power 

A third and final line of research that we discuss here is one where power is 
measured by comparing a great number of less and more powerful people 
and determining whether their degree of power correlates with certain 
behaviors. This is perhaps, at least in the eyes of the layperson, the most 
straightforward approach. If one wants to know about the behavior of 
the powerful, then why not simply observe a lot of powerful people and 
consider how they are different from less powerful people. Yet, a problem 
with this approach is that it can only show correlation. Powerful people 
may differ in many respects from less powerful people. They are older, 
richer, and better educated, for example. However, that does not mean 
that these differences are caused by power. Perhaps wealth causes power. 
Or education increases both wealth and power. Nonetheless, this third 
approach is useful because it can serve as a confirmation of findings of 
the previous experimental approach to the effects of feelings of power. If 
feelings of power really affect the power holder, then we should find that 
if we compare a large number of powerful with a large number of less 
powerful people, the two groups will differ. 

Using this idea, Lammers et al. (2010b, 2011) have conducted a num¬ 
ber of large-scale surveys among readers of Intermediair Magazine, a jour¬ 
nal aimed at professionals working in business and nonprofit companies 
in The Netherlands. This offers a particularly good sample, because in 
this sample power can be measured relatively easily and without many 
assumptions. In other power hierarchies, this is less easy. Take, for exam¬ 
ple, politics. It is unclear whether the prime minister, the president, the 
leader of the ruling party, or its chairman has the most power. If we ask 
them, they will probably point to each other. Moreover, they might add 
that the real power lies with the opposition, the bureaucracy, the media, 
or even the people. This is not mere modesty. It is just very hard to quan¬ 
tify power. Look at Forbes’ annual list of powerful people. Who is more 
powerful, Mark Zuckerberg or the Pope? Obama or Bill Gates? Michael 
Bloomberg or Kim Jong-un? 

But these problems are smaller in business. Most people would agree 
with the assumption that top management has more power than middle 
management, which has more power than lower management, which has 


The effects of power on immorality 


27 


more power than nonmanagement. Using a large sample of managers, 
Lammers and Stoker (2013) have found some interesting correlations 
between power and other variables. Most fundamentally, the study has 
confirmed a medium-sized relationship between power and behavioral 
disinhibition. In a sample of over 3,000 Dutch managers, hierarchical 
position explained 6% of the variance of an established measure of dis¬ 
inhibition, while a scale that also included a variety of more subjective 
measures of power explained about 12% of the variance. Interestingly, 
these data also showed a significant quadratic component, meaning that 
the relationship between power and disinhibition is weak at the lower- 
power strata, but much stronger at the higher-power strata. In other 
words, people with some power are somewhat disinhibited, but people 
with a lot of power are very, very disinhibited. In laypeople’s terms, they 
are not just a little intoxicated by their power but seem to be blind drunk. 

The correlational measure has also been used to study corruptive 
effects more directly. For example, using the same population, Lam¬ 
mers and Stoker (201 3) presented a large number of respondents with 
a scenario involving corporate selfishness: Would it be acceptable for a 
CEO to award top management a 40% wage increase, in order to keep 
salaries competitive with the market, while at the same time freezing the 
wages of his other employees? The results of the study showed that the 
power position of the respondents correlated positively with the degree 
to which they thought this behavior to be morally acceptable. Respon¬ 
dents in nonmanagement and lower management found this behavior 
less acceptable than did respondents in middle and top management. 
This matches the earlier described effect of power on hypocrisy, in the 
sense that the little people pay (salaries at the bottom are frozen) so that 
the powerful can enjoy the spoils (the 40% wage increase). 

Of course, this latter effect is only about the endorsement of ques¬ 
tionable behaviors - it is not about actual behavior. But another line 
of research has also focused on the effect of power on whether peo¬ 
ple engage in questionable behaviors - although of a completely different 
nature. Specifically, relying on a sample of 1,561 respondents, again taken 
from the Intermediair readership, Lammers et al. (2011) asked whether 
respondents had ever been unfaithful to their partner. The results showed 
a positive effect of power, meaning that respondents with a high-power 
position were more likely to have engaged in infidelity, even after con¬ 
trolling for gender, age, and education. Of course, these results may be 
partially due to the fact that the powerful have greater opportunities 
for infidelity. For example, men with power may also have more money 
and a more expensive car, and this may make them more attractive in 
the eyes of women (Dunn and Searle, 2010). Yet it seems unlikely that 


28 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


this can explain the finding. First of all, the effect of power on infidelity 
was as large for women as it was for men. Nonetheless, most men are 
not very strongly attracted to high-power career women (Fiske, Cuddy, 
Glick et al., 2002). Rather, it seems that powerful women engage more 
in infidelity because they follow their impulses more. This explanation is 
bolstered by the fact that the effect was driven by increased confidence - a 
behavioral state closely associated with disinhibition. Moreover, powerful 
men and women indicated a higher likelihood that they would engage in 
infidelity. This suggests that they are at least partly aware of their difficulty 
in controlling their impulses. Replicating this finding in a smaller sam¬ 
ple of 623 professionals, Lammers and Maner (2012) found that among 
respondents who were in a nonmanagement position and also had a 
committed romantic relationship, only 9% admitted that they currently 
had a lover, while among respondents in top-management positions, this 
percentage increased to 32% among men and a whopping 40% among 
women. In other words, compared to respondents in low-power posi¬ 
tions, the likelihood of adultery was tripled among high-power men and 
quadrupled among high-power women! 


Discussion: does power corrupt? 

Led by Lord Acton’s adage that power corrupts and absolute power cor¬ 
rupts absolutely, the current chapter reviewed three bodies of research, 
all of which use a different way to answer that question. Some research 
focuses on positions of power, while other research focuses on feelings of 
power. The conclusions that these three branches of research reach on 
the effects of power are partially overlapping, but also partially different. 
If people hold a position of power, then they are aware of this and they 
will adapt their tactics to this. For example, in the study of Handgraaf 
et al. (2008), respondents know how much control they have over their 
own and their negotiating partner’s outcomes. The more power they 
have, the more they realize that their partner lacks power and that they 
can therefore use their power and get away with it. Feelings of power seem 
to have a different effect. Most notably, they lead to behavioral disinhibi¬ 
tion. Feelings of power do not lead to disinhibition because of a change in 
perceived constraints, but because feelings of power automatically induce 
a disinhibited mind-set. 

Returning to Lord Acton’s adage, does power corrupt and does abso¬ 
lute power corrupt absolutely? Most of the time, power will have an effect 
through both the position of power and the associated feelings of power. 
That is, both mechanisms will work simultaneously. People who have a 
powerful position will be more likely to use their power (De Dreu, 1995; 


The effects of power on immorality 


29 


Handgraaf et al., 2008). This may lead them to force their favored out¬ 
come on powerless parties. This may lead to corruption, in the sense that 
the powerful will be more likely to use methods - perhaps, any method - 
that will get them what they want. Feelings of power that accompany 
such a position will also affect the state of mind of the powerful and 
lead to more disinhibited behavior (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner et al., 
2003). Much like alcohol, power can reduce self-control and lead peo¬ 
ple to cross boundaries (Hirsh et al., 2011). This may have corruptive 
effects; the powerful may be more likely to use any strategy that they 
think of to force the powerless party to accept their decision. But it may 
also have positive effects. If the powerful have more positive intentions, 
then disinhibition will increase these. Finally, feelings of power can also 
have corruptive effects outside a direct power relation. For example, they 
may lead to a more hypocritical view of moral issues (Lammers et al., 
2010a) or even increase adultery (Lammers et al., 2011). For these rea¬ 
sons, power can be a corruptive force. But it does not need to be and can 
also propel the powerful to do more good. 

Furthermore, if power indeed can have corruptive effects, then does 
unrestrained power lead to much more negative effects than restrained 
power? Does absolute power corrupt absolutely? The findings of Hand¬ 
graaf et al. (2008) suggest that this is not the case for positions of power. 
If people have complete control over the outcome of a situation, they are 
disinclined to use that control to its maximum. Omnipotence reduces 
strategic considerations and the desire to beat the opponent and replaces 
them by thoughts about care and kindness. Hence, for positions of power 
it seems that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. 

For feelings of power, however, it does seem that absolute power is 
more corruptive than moderate power. The findings by Lammers et al. 
(2010b) show that feelings of power increase behavioral disinhibition, but 
this power-disinhibition link grows strongest among the higher-power 
strata. Now, disinhibition does not necessarily mean corruption. If the 
powerful have a desire to do good, then those with absolute power will 
be most inclined to do good. But given that disinhibition is also linked 
to many negative effects, such as infidelity and hypocrisy, absolute power 
may indeed be more corruptive than lesser forms of power. This conclu¬ 
sion is further supported by some experimental research. In particular, 
research shows that this disinhibiting effect of power is there only as long 
as power is seen as legitimate. If the powerful feel that their power is ille¬ 
gitimate, then that disinhibiting effect is blocked (Lammers et al., 2008). 
On the other hand, if feelings of power are challenged more openly - for 
example, by making the powerful feel incompetent or by removing their 
status - then the powerful may lash out to defend their coveted position, 


30 


Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest 


and this may also lead to immorality (Fast and Chen, 2009; Fast et al., 

2012 ). 


Conclusion 

In summary, although the relationship is complex, power can - both 
through the position and through feelings of power - strongly affect peo¬ 
ple’s behavior and have a corruptive effect. Power can amplify unwanted 
tendencies and impulses. Much like alcohol, power tends to remove con¬ 
straints and make people give way to their desires, impulses, and whims. 
If those desires, impulses, and whims are benevolent, then there is no real 
problem. But if they are of a morally corrupt nature, then power corrupts. 
This does not mean that all people with power are alike. In fact, because 
they more easily follow their impulses, people with power are probably 
less alike than other, less- powerful people. But it does mean that many 
powerful people are at risk. Many forms of derailment among the most 
powerful may be directly linked to the disinhibiting effects of power. This 
means that we may need to help the powerful to deal with their power. 
After all, it is the people with power who make most of the important 
decisions in our society - not just politicians and administrators, but also 
industrialists, bankers, and military leaders. If they, for some reason, are 
at risk of being corrupted by their power (in combination with unwanted 
impulses), then we need to help them control their impulses. 


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3 


Do we give power to the right people? When 
and how norm violators rise to the top 


Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 


A dominant idea in this book is the idea that power leads to corrupted 
behavior, and this in turn makes people mistrust those who have power. 
This popular idea has been repeatedly supported by scientific evidence 
(e.g., Kipnis, 1972). What is unclear, however, is how corruption affects 
a person’s power position. One would hope, perhaps, that power holders 
who break the rules fall from grace and lose their power. But is this the 
case? Or might the very act of breaking the rules actually fuel perceptions 
of power? We develop a theoretical argument for the latter possibility, 
which is supported by recent empirical findings, and we set forth three 
propositions to elucidate this seemingly paradoxical finding. 

To explore how breaking rules affects a person’s power position we 
focus on the effects of norm violations on perceptions of power and on 
power affordance. Norms are rules or principles - implicit or explicit - 
that are understood by members of a group and that guide and constrain 
behavior without the force of laws to generate proper and acceptable 
conduct (Cialdini and Trost, 1998). Accordingly, we define norm vio¬ 
lation as behavior that infringes one or more principles of proper and 
acceptable behavior (Van Kleef, Homan, Finkenauer et al., 2011). Norm 
violations are ubiquitous and they come in many shapes. People put their 
feet on the opposite seat in the train; the boss enters your office with¬ 
out knocking; friends carry on a loud conversation in the movie theater; 
colleagues answer their cellphones while in a meeting; visitors drop their 
cigarette ash on the floor of the cafeteria. How do such behaviors shape 
observers’ perceptions of the actor’s power and concomitant power affor¬ 
dance? We propose that individuals who violate norms are seen as more 
powerful than those who do not violate norms, and that such perceptions 
may in turn fuel actual power affordance. Part of our argument rests on 


The writing of this chapter was supported by a research grant from the Foundation “Pro- 
pondis” awarded to the first author and a research grant from The Netherlands Organiza¬ 
tion for Scientific Research awarded to the second author. 


33 



34 


Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 


literature regarding the link between power and tendencies towards norm 
violation, to which we now turn. 


From power to norm violation 

According to the approach/inhibition theory of power (Keltner, Gru- 
enfeld, and Anderson, 2003), the powerful are relatively free to behave 
as they wish. High-power individuals encounter fewer social constraints 
and more resource-rich environments (e.g., money, knowledge, support). 
This activates their behavioral approach system, which is accompanied 
by behavioral disinhibition. Low-power individuals, in contrast, experi¬ 
ence more social constraints, threats, and punishments. This activates 
their behavioral inhibition system, which restricts their actions. 

Indeed, high-power people appear to act at will without fear of negative 
consequences. Individuals who feel powerful make more optimistic risk 
assessments. This optimistic perception renders them more likely to take 
risks - for instance, to engage in unprotected sex or divulge their inter¬ 
ests in a negotiation (Anderson and Galinsky, 2006). This is consistent 
with research showing that power activates the behavioral approach sys¬ 
tem (BAS), which is associated with a heightened sensitivity to rewards 
and opportunities (Smith and Bargh, 2008). Furthermore, power facili¬ 
tates goal pursuit by increasing the readiness to act in a goal-consistent 
manner (Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee, 2003), and by increasing per¬ 
sistence, flexibility, and ability to seize good opportunities for goal pur¬ 
suit (Guinote, 2007). High-power individuals express emotions, such 
as by smiling, when they feel inclined rather than obligated to do so 
(Hecht and Lafrance, 1998). They are also more likely to act according 
to their dispositional inclinations (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001) and 
momentary desires (Van Kleef and Cote, 2007), and ignore situational 
pressures (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008). When interacting 
with low-power individuals, for instance, high-power individuals with 
a communal relationship orientation responded in socially responsible 
ways and those with an exchange relationship orientation acted more in 
line with their self-interest (Chen et al., 2001). The experience of elevated 
power nourishes a strong inclination to disinhibited action that is freed 
from social conventions. Accordingly, in a social dilemma, high-power 
individuals were more likely to either give more from a common source 
acting against the norm of personal restraint or take more than others 
acting out of self-interest (Galinsky et al., 2008). 

The combination of behavioral disinhibition with disregard for social 
norms makes powerful people more likely to exhibit socially inappropriate 
behavior. Compared to low-power individuals, high-power individuals 


Do we give power to the right people? 


35 


are more likely to take excessive cookies from a common plate, eat with 
their mouths open, and spread crumbs (Keltner et al., 2003); interrupt 
conversation partners and invade their personal space (DePaulo and 
Friedman, 1998); fail to take another person’s perspective (Galinsky, 
Magee, Inesi et al, 2006); ignore other people’s suffering (van Kleef, 
Oveis, van der Lowe et al., 2008); stereotype (Fiske, 1993) and patronize 
others (Vescio, Gervais, Snyder et al., 2005); practice less strict moral 
behavior themselves while imposing strict moral standards on others 
(Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010); take credit for the contributions 
of others (Kipnis, 1972); and treat other people as a means to their own 
ends (Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee et al., 2008) - while high-power men are 
more likely to sexualize and harass low-power women (Bargh, Raymond, 
Pryor et al., 1995). 


From norm violation to power 

The above-mentioned theorizing and research show that there is a strong 
association between power and socially inappropriate behavior. We pro¬ 
pose that this association is bidirectional. Because certain behaviors 
are believed to be associated with power (Hall, Coats, and LeBeau, 
2005), the cues themselves may signal power (Ridgeway, Berger, and 
Smith, 1985). Past research has shown that, when people perceive oth¬ 
ers around them, they may use such cues to infer their level of power 
(cf. Tiedens, 2001). For instance, individuals who display greater action 
orientation are perceived as more powerful because they signal that they 
have the capacity to act according to their own volition (Magee, 2009) - 
a freedom that comes with greater power (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner 
et al., 2003) . Extending this logic, we hypothesized that norm violators are 
perceived as more powerful than norm abiders (Van Kleef et al., 2011). 

In the first study by Van Kleef et al. (2011), participants read a story 
about a target person (termed “actor”) who exhibits norm-violating ver¬ 
sus neutral behavior. They imagined having to wait in a room in the city 
hall. In the norm-violation condition, the actor helps himself to the staff 
coffee when the service desk is empty. In the neutral condition, the actor 
merely goes to the bathroom, and returns shortly thereafter. Participants 
in the norm-violation condition rated the actor as more powerful than in 
the control condition (e.g., “I think this person... is influential”; “enjoys 
considerable authority”). 

In another scenario study, we replicated this effect in an organizational 
context and investigated a potential explanatory mechanism behind it. 
Participants read about a bookkeeper who either sticks to the rules or vio¬ 
lates the rules of bookkeeping. In line with our predictions, participants 


36 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 

perceived the bookkeeper who bent the rules as having more power - 
e.g., “This person can influence other people’s pay level” (Hinkin and 
Schriesheim, 1989) - and higher volitional capacity - e.g., “This person 
feels free to do what he wants” (Magee, 2009) - than the bookkeeper 
who followed the rules. Moreover, the effect of norm violation on power 
perception was fully mediated by volition inferences. 

In the next study, participants watched a short video clip featuring a 
male actor in a cafeteria. In the norm-violation video, the actor puts his 
feet on a chair, repeatedly drops his cigarette ash on the floor, and gives 
an order to the waiter in an abrupt and rude manner. In the control 
video, the actor crosses his legs, drops the ash in the ashtray, and orders 
politely. Next, participants learned that the actor eventually received a 
wrong order. We then measured power perception with the Generalized 
Sense of Power Scale - e.g., “I think this person has a great deal of 
power” (Anderson and Galinsky, 2006). We further included an indirect 
measure of power by assessing participants’ expectations of the actor’s 
emotional reaction and behavioral tendencies with regard to the wrong 
order. Research on emotion stereotypes has found that high-power indi¬ 
viduals are expected to react with more anger and less sadness to negative 
events (Tiedens, Ellsworth, and Mesquita, 2000) and, accordingly, to 
exhibit more active (e.g., approach, confrontation) and less passive (e.g., 
inhibition, helplessness) action tendencies (Keltner et al., 2003) than 
low-power individuals. As anticipated, participants in the norm-violation 
condition perceived the actor as more powerful and they expected him 
to feel more anger and less sadness, and to react with more approach 
tendencies to the wrong order (e.g., “He will express his opposition” 
and “He will ask the waiter to change his order”) and less inhibition 
tendency (e.g., “He will try to stop thinking about the situation” and 
“He will content himself with the current order”). These findings are 
depicted in Figure 3.1. 

Finally, we replicated the norm-violation-to-power effect in a face- 
to-face interaction study. When the participants arrived, one confeder¬ 
ate was already waiting outside the lab (the “control” confederate, who 
behaved appropriately throughout the session). The experimenter led 
both inside the lab and told them that the experiment would start as soon 
as the third participant (the “norm violator” confederate) had arrived. 
The norm-violator confederate arrived 1.5 minutes late. He threw his 
bag on the table in front of the couches where the participant and the 
other confederate were sitting, and he put his feet on the table. Sup¬ 
posedly in preparation for a joint task, the participants then rated the 
two confederates on a number of dimensions. Consistent with the other 
studies, participants rated the norm violator higher on volitional capacity 
and they perceived him as more powerful than the control confederate. 


37 


Do we give power to the right people? 


6-i 


5- 


4- 


3- 


2 - 


1 J -H 

Power 


Anger 


□ Norm violation 
■ Control 



Sadness Approach Inhibition 


Figure 3.1 Effects of norm violation on perceptions of power, expected 
emotional reactions, and approach/inhibition tendencies. This figure is 
based on findings reported in Van Kleef et al., 2011, Study 3. 


Mediation analyses showed that the norm-violation effect could be 
explained in terms of volition inferences: norm violators were perceived 
as having the freedom to act at will, fueling perceptions of power. 

In short, four studies using different research paradigms and differ¬ 
ent norm violations indicate that norm violations can indeed produce 
perceptions of power. This effect emerged on various explicit measures 
of power as well as on indirect, unobtrusive measures, and it appears 
to hold both when participants report on someone they have never seen 
(based on descriptions or video clips depicting the person’s behavior) and 
when they form impressions of someone with whom they have recently 
interacted. 


When do norm violators rise to power? Making 
sense of a paradox 

The idea that power corrupts and propels individuals to violate norms 
is well documented and explains why laypeople are mistrustful and 



















38 Eftychia Stamkou and GerbenA. Van Kleef 

suspicious of the powerful. Yet, the reverse possibility, that norm viola¬ 
tions fuel perceptions of power, seems paradoxical and also incompatible 
with people’s frequently expressed wariness of the powerful. Our inves¬ 
tigation (Van Kleef et al ., 2011) summarized above showed that norm 
violations may trigger perceptions of power. Nevertheless, people may not 
necessarily perceive norm violators as worthy of power and grant them 
power. In some cases, power perceptions and power affordance go hand 
in hand. For instance, a person who defends her fellow group members 
against an outside threat is likely to be perceived as powerful (because 
she shows leadership) and to be afforded power (because she takes care 
of the group’s interests). However, in many cases, power perceptions 
and power affordance are disconnected. It is possible to perceive a per¬ 
son as powerful (e.g., because one knows that the person holds power 
or because he shows stereotypically powerful behavior) while not being 
willing to afford (more) power to this person. In a totalitarian regime, 
people realize that their dictator has power, but not everyone may be 
happy with this situation. Thus, if they were given the chance, these peo¬ 
ple would probably not vote for the dictator. Conversely, it is conceivable 
that power is afforded to someone who does not appear powerful. For 
instance, people may reward a person for behaving modestly by giving her 
power (Keltner, Van Kleef, Chen, and Kraus, 2008), even though she did 
not show stereotypically powerful behavior (in fact, the opposite). Thus, 
perceiving a person as powerful and being willing to afford them power 
can be two independent processes (Van Kleef, Homan, Finkenauer et al ., 
2012 ). 

Furthermore, it seems unlikely (and perhaps disturbing) that norm 
violators would always rise to power. The question arises, then, of when 
norm violations result in the acquisition of power and when they do 
not. In the remainder of this chapter, we advance three propositions that 
aim to illuminate this issue and explain the paradoxical effect of norm 
violation on power perceptions. 


Proposition 1: prosocial norm violations fuel power affordance, but 
selfish norm violations do not 

The reciprocal-influence model of power (Keltner et al., 2008) posits 
that subordinates’ capacity to form alliances forces powerful individu¬ 
als to engage socially and advance the interests of the group, because if 
they fail to do so their position may be undermined (for related argu¬ 
ments, see Boehm, 1999; van Vugt, 2006). Accordingly, the model’s 
social-engagement hypothesis holds that power is afforded preferentially 
to those who advance the interests of the group. 


Do we give power to the right people? 


39 


Until recently, support for the social-engagement hypothesis was pro¬ 
vided exclusively by studies of socially accepted traits and behaviors such 
as extroversion, playfulness, and generosity (see Keltner et al., 2008, for 
a review). Thus, the question arose of whether socially unacceptable 
behaviors such as norm violations would also lead to power affordance 
as long as they benefit one’s social environment. Some norm violations 
are inherently disruptive, such as carrying on a loud conversation in the 
movie theater. Other norm violations may actually benefit one’s social 
group. A famous example is Robin Hood, the legendary archer who stole 
from the rich to help the poor. 

A recent series of studies indicates that norm violations can indeed fuel 
power affordance, provided that the norm violation is prosocial rather 
than selfish (Van Kleef et al., 2012). In the first of these studies, partici¬ 
pants read a short scenario about a company outing with a tour bus. The 
seat of one passenger (the focal actor) is already slightly tilted back. This 
passenger decides to adjust his seat to either an upright position, resulting 
in more legroom for the person sitting behind him (prosocial behavior), 
or one further back, thus restricting the legroom of the person behind 
him (selfish behavior). In light of the bus driver’s instructions, either 
the passenger’s behavior constitutes a norm violation (i.e., when the bus 
driver said, “Please leave the seats in their current positions, because if 
they are adjusted further up or down they may become stuck”), or it does 
not (i.e., when the driver said “Please do not eat or drink on board the 
bus”). This study focused on perceptions of legitimate power (e.g., “This 
passenger. . . has a legitimate right to influence others;. .. can make oth¬ 
ers feel that they have commitments to meet”), which form an important 
precursor to power affordance (French and Raven, 1959). The results 
showed that when the passenger behaved selfishly, participants rated him 
lower in legitimate power in the norm-violation than in the control condi¬ 
tion. In contrast, when the passenger behaved prosocially, power ratings 
were higher in the norm-violation than in the control condition. These 
results demonstrate that prosocial norm violations fuel perceptions of 
legitimate power, whereas selfish norm violations do not. 

The second study employed a different experimental methodology, 
investigated a potential mechanism underlying the aforementioned effect, 
and used a more direct measure of power affordance. Participants 
watched a 20-second film clip that showed a waiting room with three 
actors. The main (male) actor would stand up after a few seconds to 
close the window. His action had either prosocial implications (i.e., when 
the two other actors, who were visibly cold, stopped shivering), or selfish 
implications (i.e., when the two other actors, who were visibly warm, con¬ 
tinued fanning themselves). Additionally, closing the window was either 


40 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 

a norm violation, because there was a sign on the window saying “Do not 
touch,” or not a violation (when there was no sign). Participants then 
reported on their tendency to afford power to the main actor (e.g., “I 
would like this person as my boss” and “I would like this person as my 
political leader”) and rated the actor’s social engagement (e.g., “I think 
he is .. . helpful. . . sympathetic”). 

When the actor’s behavior was selfish, power affordance was somewhat 
lower in the norm-violation than in the control condition, and there was 
no significant difference in perceived social engagement. When the actor’s 
behavior was prosocial, however, participants perceived the actor as more 
socially engaged and were more willing to afford him power in the norm- 
violation than in the control condition. Further analyses showed that 
perceived social engagement fully mediated the effect of prosocial norm 
violations on power affordance. Yet, a question that was not addressed 
by these two studies was whether selfish norm violations reduced power 
affordance because they did not benefit other people or because they 
harmed other people. If the negative effect of selfish norm violations 
in the two studies described above was driven by their harmfulness, 
there should be no difference between a norm-violation condition and 
a condition where the actor’s norm violation neither harms nor benefits 
others; that is, when it is inconsequential for the perceiver. 

To investigate this, a third study compared prosocial to inconsequential 
norm violations in a face-to-face experimental setting. Upon arrival in the 
lab, participants received instructions that they would play a computer¬ 
ized board game with another participant, who was in fact a confederate. 
Participants learned that before playing the game they would complete 
a number of questionnaires. There was a desk in the room that clearly 
belonged to the experimenter, with a computer, piles of questionnaires, 
pencils, administrative paperwork, and a coffee pot with some plastic 
cups. At a certain point, the experimenter left the room. Shortly there¬ 
after, the confederate stood up, walked to the experimenter’s desk, and 
either got coffee for himself without offering coffee to the participant 
(inconsequential behavior) or asked if the participant cared for a cup of 
coffee, and if so, poured both of them a cup (prosocial behavior). Of note, 
before the experimenter left the room, he said that the participants could 
take coffee if they wanted (control condition), or he did not invite them to 
take coffee (norm violation condition). When the experimenter returned, 
participants completed questionnaires in separate rooms, including a 
power affordance scale (e.g., “I would let the other person.. . influence 
the game”; “ .. . control my outcomes”; “ .. . have power over me”). 

The results showed that participants conferred more power upon the 
confederate when he got coffee without invitation than when he did 



Do we give power to the right people? 


41 



5 


□ Norm violation 
■ Control 


2 



Prosocial 


Inconsequential 


Figure 3.2 Power affordance as a function of norm violation (stealing 
coffee vs. taking coffee upon invitation) and prosociality (offering coffee 
to another person vs. keeping coffee for self). This figure is based on 
findings reported in Van Kleef et al., 2012, Study 3. 


so upon invitation (norm violation main effect). Furthermore, when 
the confederate’s behavior had prosocial consequences, norm violation 
inspired more power affordance than no violation. When the confeder¬ 
ate’s behavior had no consequences for the participant, there was no sig¬ 
nificant difference (see Figure 3.2). These results indicate that the effects 
of prosocial norm violations on power affordance generalize to face-to- 
face interaction. Moreover, they suggest that selfish norm violations do 
not undermine power as long as they do not harm other individuals. 
Finally, this study indicates that acting prosocially does not necessarily 
result in power affordance. The confederate who fetched coffee for the 
participants was not afforded power when taking coffee was allowed, but 
only when taking coffee was not allowed. Thus, intriguingly, prosocial 
behaviors may fuel power affordance when they go against the rules. 

These findings indicate that power is afforded only to those individuals 
who violate norms in a way that benefits others. Individuals who broke 
the rules at the expense of others were afforded less power than those who 
obeyed the rules. Norm violations may lead to perceptions of power (Van 
Kleef et al., 2011), but they only inspire power affordance when they 
benefit rather than harm other people (Van Kleef et al., 2012). Norm 
violators who act in favor of the group by breaking the rules may repair 
or improve the group’s state of affairs. In this light, people’s choice to 
confer power to norm violators may be functional for the viability of the 
community and the advancement of its interests. 









42 


Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 


Proposition 2: cultural tightness and collectivism alter people’s 
attitude towards norm violations 

Norms cannot exist in isolation from the social world - they are defined 
by and embedded in a social context involving the shared expectations of 
others. Therefore, what constitutes a norm violation may shift according 
to a society’s norms and the way those norms translate into behavior 
(Goode, 2002). This element of subjectivity in norm violations opens 
them up to different interpretations. We propose that the interpretation 
and evaluation of the same norm-violating behavior may vary across 
cultures as a function of the severity of punishment for norm violations 
meted out in a given society (tightness vs. looseness) and the salience of 
the group in individuals’ self-concept (collectivism vs. individualism). 

Although norm violations can indeed signal power, it remains to be 
seen whether this association holds in cultures that impose severe sanc¬ 
tions for norm violations. The way cultures differ regarding external soci¬ 
etal constraints is captured by the tightness-looseness dimension (Boldt, 
1978; Pelto, 1968; Triandis, 1989). South Asian and Confucian nations 
(e.g., Pakistan and Japan) are among the tightest whereas Latin Amer¬ 
ican and Eastern European nations (e.g., Brazil and Ukraine) are the 
least tight. Tightness is associated with strong norms and low tolerance 
of deviant behavior, which restricts the range of behavior deemed appro¬ 
priate across everyday situations and settings (e.g., cafeterias, libraries, 
public parks, etc.). By contrast, looseness is associated with weak norms 
and high tolerance of deviant behavior, affording a wider range of per¬ 
missible behavior across everyday situations (Gelfand et al., 2011). The 
strength (or weakness) of everyday recurring situations within nations 
simultaneously reflects and supports the degree of order and coordina¬ 
tion in the larger cultural context. Compared to individuals in loose cul¬ 
tures, individuals in tight cultures are more concerned with conforming 
to normative rules and have psychological qualities that promote social 
order. As a case in point, individuals in tight nations were found to be 
less involved in actions that challenge societal institutions (e.g., demon¬ 
strations, strikes, and petitions) and to have a higher need for structure 
(Gelfand et al ., 2011). 

Given the greater preference for structure, norm violations may be 
considered a threat to the social order in tight nations, since norm vio¬ 
lations by definition break with tradition. As a consequence, people in 
tight nations may afford less power to individuals who violate the norms 
than to individuals who abide by the norms, even if the former are still 
perceived as more powerful. In loose nations, in contrast, deviations from 
the norm may be seen as a way to produce social change, innovation, and 


Do we give power to the right people? 


43 


creativity, and therefore norm violators may be embraced and afforded 
more power than norm abiders. 

Societies impose sanctions on norm violators because norms play a piv¬ 
otal role in the functioning of any group, regardless of how tight or loose 
the society is. Norms ensure group survival, increase the predictability 
of group members’ behavior, save group members from embarrassing 
interpersonal situations, and give expression to the group’s central val¬ 
ues (Kiesler and Kiesler, 1970). Thus, violating a norm could endanger 
the group (Feldman, 1984). This entails that the centrality of the group 
in individuals’ self-concept, which is the core distinction between col¬ 
lectivism and individualism, may alter the meaning of norm violations 
across cultures. 1 

In collectivist groups, there is considerable emphasis on relationships, 
the maintenance of harmony, and “sticking with” the group. Members 
of collectivist groups are socialized to avoid conflict, to empathize with 
others, and to avoid drawing attention to themselves (Goncalo and Staw, 
2006; Kim and Markus, 1999). In contrast, members of individualist 
cultures tend to define themselves in terms of their independence from 
groups and autonomy and are socialized to value individual freedoms and 
individual expressions. In individualist cultures, standing out and being 
different is often seen as a sign of character and courage (for a review, see 
Triandis, 1995; Triandis, Bontempo, Villareal et al., 1988). Implicit in 
the characterization of collectivist and individualist groups is the assump¬ 
tion that deviance will be downgraded more in groups that prescribe 
collectivism than in groups that prescribe individualism. Indeed, empir¬ 
ical research shows that individualist group norms broaden the latitude 
of acceptable group member behavior (Hornsey, Jetten, McAuliffe, and 
Hogg, 2006) and non-normative characteristics (e.g., left-handedness; 
Kinias, Kim, Hafenbrack et al., unpublished). 

If individualist cultures encourage distinctiveness (Kim and Markus, 
1999; Kim and Sherman, 2008; but see also Becker, Vignoles, Owe 
et al., 2012) and thus tolerate deviance, then norm-violating behavior 
might be interpreted as a sign of uniqueness and autonomy. We would 
therefore expect that these societies would afford more power to norm 
violators than to norm abiders. In collectivist cultures, however, norm- 
violating behavior may be seen as a disruption of group harmony. We 
would therefore expect that, even if norm violators are seen as more 

1 Individualism-collectivism is distinct from tightness-looseness (Gelfand et al., 2011; 
Triandis, 1989) even though they may be moderately correlated (Carpenter, 2000). 
There are societies or groups that are relatively collectivistic and loose (e.g., Brazil, Hong 
Kong), collectivistic and tight (e.g., lapan, Singapore), individualist and loose (e.g., the 
USA, The Netherlands), and individualist and tight (e.g., Germany). 


44 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 

powerful, they would be afforded less power than norm abiders in col¬ 
lectivist cultures. 

Based on the foregoing considerations, cross-cultural differences in 
tolerance for deviant behavior (i.e., tightness) and individual differenti¬ 
ation (i.e., collectivism) may independently or jointly influence how the 
members of a society evaluate and deal with norm violators. From a 
social-evolutionary point of view, we would expect that the way societies 
deal with norm violators may be functional within their own historical 
and ecological context. For instance, tight nations may reinforce social 
order and stability by excluding norm violators from positions of power, 
whereas loose nations may pave the way for social change and innovation 
by conferring power on norm violators. 

Preliminary findings based on a Dutch sample show that within the 
same culture individuals who show less conformity-oriented behavior 
are more likely to perceive a norm violator as more powerful (relative to 
a norm abider) than individuals who exhibit more conformity-oriented 
behavior. These results demonstrate that individuals vary in the extent 
to which they internalize or endorse a cultural ideal (Leung and Cohen, 
2011). In The Netherlands, for instance, individuals who endorse the 
cultural ideal of looseness by being less conformist themselves are more 
likely to perceive a norm violator as powerful; for those who reject loose¬ 
ness, however, as they are more conformist, the effect of norm violation 
on power substantially diminishes. This may imply that within-culture 
variability of responses to norm violators may reflect between-culture dif¬ 
ferences, and this implication led the way to a large-scale research project 
that examines additional cultures across the full range of tightness versus 
looseness, which is currently underway. 

The foregoing theorizing and research warrant the tentative conclusion 
that the polysemy of norm violations may render them susceptible to 
different interpretations across cultures. Our approach aspires to jointly 
consider both culture and individual differences in an integrated account 
that can capture most of the within- and between-culture variation in 
people’s perception of norm violators. 


Proposition 3: norm violations are an insidious means of hierarchy 
reinforcement 

Social hierarchies seem to be a universal default for human social organi¬ 
zation (Fiske, 2010). Hierarchies form rapidly in human groups, because 
they require only minimal social interaction to emerge (Anderson and 
Kilduff, 2009; van Vugt, 2006). Once formed, they tend to be self¬ 
reinforcing and long-lasting (Magee and Galinsky, 2008). Theoretical 


Do we give power to the right people? 


45 


and empirical accounts suggest that the persistence of hierarchies may 
be justified by their utilitarian value and processing ease (Keltner et al., 
2008). First, hierarchies are an effective relational form for coordinating 
activity, allocating resources, increasing accountability, acknowledging 
expertise, and efficiently executing a plan (Greer and Van Kleef, 2010; 
Halevy, Chou, and Galinsky, 2011; Leavitt, 2005; Ronay, Greenway, 
Anicich et al., 2012; Weber, 1946). Second, hierarchies seem to be fluent 
social stimuli - that is, they are processed more easily and therefore liked 
better than less hierarchical stimuli (Zitek and Tiedens, 2012). If hier¬ 
archies feature such qualities, people might seek them out, even without 
necessarily intending to or realizing they have done so. 

Indeed, although people usually endorse explicit statements about the 
value of equality and reject explicit statements about the value of hierar¬ 
chy (Bellah, Madsen, Sullivan etal., 1996; Fiske, 1991), there is evidence 
that they unconsciously enjoy dominance complementarity - that is, an 
unequal distribution of power (Tiedens, Unzueta, and Young, 2007). 
People’s desire for hierarchy could thus be an unconsciously held goal 
rather than an explicitly stated goal. Even though it can be difficult to 
establish the existence of unconscious goals, there is ample evidence that 
unconsciously held desires affect people’s behavior and cognition through 
mechanisms that are completely outside conscious awareness (Chartrand 
and Bargh, 1996; Chartrand and Jefferis, 2003). 

In fact, advocates of system justification theory argue that there is a 
general ideological motive to justify the existing social order, which is 
observed most readily at an implicit level of awareness and, paradoxi¬ 
cally, is sometimes strongest among those who are most harmed by the 
status quo (Jost, Banaji, and Nosek, 2004). Research reveals that indi¬ 
viduals at the bottom of the social ladder work to support hierarchies by 
making decisions that benefit those at the top of the hierarchy, even at 
their own expense, and by showing favoritism towards those above them 
(Umphress, Smith-Crowe, Briefer al., 2007). 

Building on these notions, we propose that people’s tendency to see 
power in norm violation and even afford power to norm violators may be 
an implicit mechanism of hierarchy reinforcement. Because power leads 
to behavioral disinhibition (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner et al., 2003), the 
powerful are more likely to violate norms (Kipnis, 1972; Lammers et al., 
2010). Doing so in turn leads other people to perceive them as powerful 
(Van Kleef et al., 2011) or even confer power on them (van Kleef et al., 
2012) . As individuals thus gain power, their behavior becomes even more 
liberated, possibly leading to more norm violations, and thus evoking a 
self-reinforcing process. This circuit from power to norm violations to 
power affordance may play a role in the perpetuation and reinforcement 


46 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 

of social hierarchies, and it may also explain the congregation of norm 
violators at the highest rank (Piff, Stancato, Cote et al., 2012). 

If the norm-violation-to-power effect is part of a mechanism that bol¬ 
sters the status quo, it would be interesting to investigate whether people 
are aware that their readiness to confer power on norm violators may 
eventually support the social hierarchy. In other words, does this mecha¬ 
nism operate on a conscious rather than nonconscious level? If it works on 
a conscious level, we would expect that, because lower-status individuals 
are harmed the most by the status quo, they would be more motivated to 
resist the status quo (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999) and thus be less likely 
than higher-status individuals to give power to norm violators. If, how¬ 
ever, this mechanism evolves on a nonconscious level, we would expect 
that lower-status individuals, who have a greater need to justify the sys¬ 
tem in order to reduce ideological dissonance (Jost et al., 2004), would 
be more likely to confer power on norm violators. 

By contrast, those in the upper echelons of society should be less likely 
to give power to individuals who break the rules, because rules maintain 
and strengthen the social order, which in turn guards the status quo and 
protects their interests (Cialdini and Trost, 1998). Furthermore, high- 
status individuals have a stronger motivation to achieve and maintain their 
social standing (Frank, 1985; Maner, Gailliot, Butz et al., 2007). This 
renders them more competitive and reluctant to share their resources 
(Piff, Kraus, Cote et al., 2010) and privileged position with anyone who 
strives for power by showing stereotypically dominant behavior, such 
as norm violators. By blocking norm violators’ way to the top, high- 
status individuals may achieve a short-lived goal of preserving their own 
little niche in the hierarchy - a strategy that eventually reinforces and 
perpetuates the social hierarchy in the long run. 

Preliminary findings from investigations in our lab indicate that indi¬ 
viduals may not be aware that their choices work to support the status 
quo. In a scenario study, participants rated their self-perceived socio¬ 
economic status (SES) (e.g., “My family usually had enough money for 
things when I was growing up”; Griskevicius, Tybur, Delton et al., 2011), 
and then read a political candidate’s speech. The candidate was in favor 
of either normative (e.g., “Rules are there for a reason”) or counter- 
normative behavior (e.g., “Rules are there to be broken”). Furthermore, 
the candidate declared his willingness either to follow or break the rules 
in order to benefit his country. We added this information to control for 
the effect of prosocial behavior by making all conditions prosocial. Then 
participants answered a few statements measuring power affordance in 
that particular context (e.g., “I would like this person to make deci¬ 
sions on important political issues”). The results showed that lower-SES 


Do we give power to the right people? 


47 


participants were more likely than higher-SES participants to confer 
power on a political candidate who was in favor of rule-breaking behav¬ 
ior. By contrast, the political candidate who was in favor of rule-abiding 
behavior was afforded more power by higher-SES participants than 
lower-SES participants. 

Even though this evidence is only suggestive, it indicates that individ¬ 
uals who have a disadvantaged position are more likely to afford power 
to norm violators, thereby providing a particularly insidious means by 
which the social hierarchy is being reinforced and perpetuated. Those 
who hold a privileged position, on the other hand, are more likely to 
confer power on compliant individuals. 


Epilogue 

Scientific research has repeatedly confirmed lay beliefs about the power 
holder’s tendency to behave in socially unacceptable ways. These behav¬ 
ioral inclinations provide in turn the right conditions that give rise to 
suspicion and paranoia among those who lack power. From that per¬ 
spective, it is counterintuitive that this very behavior fuels perceptions of 
power - individuals who break the rules gain power in the eyes of others 
and may even rise to actual power positions. 

To illuminate these paradoxical findings, we adopted a multilateral 
approach that considered the social impact of the norm violator’s action, 
the affordances of the cultural context, and the social standing of the per- 
ceiver. We proposed and showed that only norm violators whose actions 
have a positive impact on the group may be afforded power. Further¬ 
more, we suggested that the psychological meaning and thus evalua¬ 
tion of norm-violating behavior may be contingent on the tolerance of 
deviance in a given society and the salience of the group in perceivers’ 
self-concept. Norm violators may be seen as agents of innovative change 
and self-determination in loose and individualist cultures, and, as a con¬ 
sequence, they may be afforded power. Or they may be seen as advocates 
of disorder and segregation, and thus unworthy of power in tight and col¬ 
lectivist cultures. Finally, we demonstrated how the link from power to 
norm-violating behavior to power affordance may be an implicit mech¬ 
anism that bolsters the hierarchical status quo. This vicious cycle of 
norm violations and power affordance may play a role in the emergence 
or continuation of a multitude of undesirable social and organizational 
behaviors, such as fraud, sexual harassment, and violence. 

We consider the aforementioned ideas a particularly fruitful avenue for 
future research. This research could further our understanding of how 
norm violators rise to the top (Van Kleef et al., 2011, 2012), why the 


48 


Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef 


proportion of norm violators is consistently greater in the highest rank of 
the social hierarchy (Kraus, Piff, and Keltner, 2011; Piff et al., 2012), and 
when norm violators can benefit societies and organizations by bringing 
innovative changes rather than harm them by getting bogged down into 
a power trip (Jetten and Hornsey, 2011). 


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4 The leaders’ rosy halo: why do we give 
power holders the benefit of the doubt? 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


Political and military leaders cheating on their spouses. Heads of banks 
committing widespread fraud. Religious leaders hiding abuse in their 
ranks rather than reporting it to the police. From the famous statement 
by Lord Acton to modern examples of power holders lying, cheating, and 
stealing, it has become a truism that power corrupts those who possess 
it. Given this apparently repeated association of power and corruption, 
it should naturally follow for people to expect the worst from power 
holders. Indeed, laypeople seem to regard power itself as a topic inappro¬ 
priate for polite conversation, and power-seeking behaviors as distasteful, 
potentially harmful, and presumably self-centered (e.g., Ng, 1980). 

However, other evidence suggests that individuals’ feelings about 
power and those who possess it are more nuanced. Though some power 
holders may be viewed with suspicion, many of them are admired, and 
individuals generally desire some degree of control in their own lives 
(e.g., Langer, 1975). We propose that, rather than being inherently sus¬ 
picious of those in power, individuals are generally credulous towards 
power holders and see them in positive terms. 

In the present chapter, we begin by examining power holders them¬ 
selves, detailing the multiple possible origins of the idea that power cor¬ 
rupts and discussing research that suggests a more nuanced view. Then 
we shift focus to perceivers, first acknowledging ways in which perceptual 
patterns may foster associations between power and corruption and then 
presenting data showing that people might instead have a positive view 
of those in power as a default. We review several reasons why such a pos¬ 
itive view is likely to be far more prevalent than is recognized. Finally, we 
discuss the implications of this “leaders’ rosy halo” for both theorizing 
about power and real-life hierarchies. 


Corruption as a function of the power holder 

Given the ubiquity of the notion that power corrupts, we must first 
consider potential roots of this idea. One possibility is that power does 


53 



54 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


indeed corrupt those who possess it. In line with social-psychological 
and related research on power, we define power as asymmetric control 
over valued resources and outcomes (Emerson, 1962; Keltner, Gru- 
enfeld, and Anderson, 2003; Magee and Galinsky, 2008; Thibaut and 
Kelley, 1959). From this definition, it naturally follows that those who 
have power are more independent than those who lack it (cf. Lee and 
Tiedens, 2001). Perhaps this independence frees those with power to 
behave without concern for others (e.g., Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Ander¬ 
son, 2003). A random sampling of news headlines of the last year reveals 
multiple examples across numerous nations of bad behavior on the part 
of power holders. Indeed, much of the social-psychological research on 
power in the last few decades has also focused on the negative conse¬ 
quences of possessing power (see, e.g., Lee-Chai and Bargh, 2001). For 
example, Fiske (1993) proposed that powerful people stereotype their 
subordinates, both intentionally and unintentionally, whereas subordi¬ 
nates pay attention to those above them and seek individuating infor¬ 
mation about them (Goodwin, Gubin, Fiske et al., 2000). Power has 
also been associated with other examples of antisocial behavior such 
as reduced perspective taking (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al., 2006) 
and increased self-anchoring (Overbeck and Droutman, 2013), greater 
hypocrisy (Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010), more negative eval¬ 
uations of others (Georgesen and Harris, 1998), and less distress and 
compassion in response to another’s suffering (Van Kleef, Oveis, and van 
der Lowe, 2008). In other words, the stereotype of the corrupt power 
holder might have its basis in reality. 

However, the evidence for the corrupting nature of power is more 
mixed than is commonly thought. One problem is the often correla¬ 
tional nature of the data. In real life, individuals are rarely “randomly 
assigned” to powerful positions; they are selected by others to be elected 
or promoted to them. Unfortunately, various forces conspire to increase 
the likelihood that the wrong people ascend to power. It can be dif¬ 
ficult to accurately assess the traits one would desire in a leader, and 
the cues often used as evidence for these traits may be misleading. In 
fact, sometimes these cues lead the worst people, rather than the best, 
to be promoted to powerful positions. For example, in one set of stud¬ 
ies participants attained high-status positions in their social groups most 
often when they were active participants in the group discussion and 
thus appeared competent, even when private assessments revealed they 
were not actually competent (Anderson and Kilduff, 2009). Individu¬ 
als who gain power but do not feel competent behave more aggressively 
towards others (Fast and Chen, 2009). Similarly, narcissists attain posi¬ 
tions of leadership more often than nonnarcissists, in part because they 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


55 


seem confident and authoritative (Nevicka, Ten Velden, De Hoogh et al ., 
2011). Narcissistic leaders do not seek new information and otherwise 
tend to engage in risky and attention-grabbing behavior that leads to 
worse group performance (Chatterjee and Hambrick, 2007; Nevicka 
et al., 2011). In this case, it is not that power corrupts, but rather that 
corrupt individuals may be more likely to obtain power and then are more 
able to behave badly due to the power they have been given. However, 
either case provides a realistic basis for the development of a belief that 
“power corrupts.” 


A more complex view of the power holder 

Yet experimental power research also yields more nuanced results than 
the blunt conclusion “power corrupts.” Power can lead to stereotyping 
when a stereotype is available and relevant (Chen, Ybarra, and Kiefer, 
2004; Vescio, Snyder, and Butz, 2003), but power also leads to more 
individuation, with high-power individuals forming a more coherent, 
accurate representation of another’s personality than low-power individ¬ 
uals (Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee et al, 2008, Experiment 2; Overbeck and 
Park, 2001, 2006). Power leads to less perspective-taking in some cir¬ 
cumstances (Galinsky et al., 2006), but increased perspective-taking in 
others (Cote, Kraus, Cheng et al., 2011; Schmid Mast, Jonas, and Hall, 
2009). Power holders are posited to be cognitive misers, reserving their 
efforts for tasks that they deem worthy (e.g., DeWall, Baumeister, Mead 
et al., 2011), yet those who have power frequently show equivalent or 
better performance on cognitive tasks than those who lack it (e.g., Over¬ 
beck and Park, 2001, 2006; Smith, Dijksterhuis, and Wigboldus, 2008a; 
Smith, Jostmann, Galinsky et al., 2008b). 

Such seemingly contradictory effects may result from the same under¬ 
lying cognitive process. Because power creates a greater sense of social 
distance in those who possess it, power holders should, and do, engage 
in more abstract thinking than those who lack power (Huang, Galinsky, 
Gruenfeld et al., 2011; Magee, Milliken, and Lurie, 2010; Smith and 
Trope, 2006; Stel, van Dijk, Smith et al., 2012). The strength of this link 
is reflected in its bidirectionality: Thinking abstractly makes a person 
feel more powerful (Smith, Wigboldus, and Dijksterhuis, 2008c), and 
appearing to be an abstract thinker, such as by using more abstract lan¬ 
guage, leads others to perceive a person as being more powerful (Wakslak, 
Smith, and Han, 2013). Much of both the good and the bad behavior pre¬ 
viously associated with power is a consequence of this increase in abstract 
thinking, as described in the social distance theory of power (see Magee 
and Smith, 2013, for a review). For example, abstract thinking leads to 


56 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


more stereotyping when a stereotype is available (e.g., Chen et al., 2004) 
and more individuation (i.e., representing individuals in terms of traits) 
when a stereotype is not available (e.g., Overbeck and Park, 2001). After 
all, both individuation and stereotyping involve generalization: individu¬ 
ation involves generalizing from specific behaviors performed by a target, 
and stereotyping involves generalizing from specific group memberships, 
but in both cases the resulting inference is assumed to represent a rel¬ 
atively stable characteristic of the target person. A critical consequence 
of the link between power and abstract thinking is that power reveals the 
person. That is, abstract thinking increases the correspondence between 
traits and behavior (Torelli and Kaikati, 2009), so that power holders 
behave more in line with their values and personalities than those below 
them. Thus, for example, power increases communal, selfless behavior 
in those who by nature are communal or have a strong moral identity, 
but decreases the same behavior in those who by nature are exchange- 
oriented or have a weak moral identity (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 
2001; DeCelles, DeRue, Margolis et al ., 2012). This also means power 
holders behave more in line with the goals they have (e.g., Guinote, 2007; 
Smith et al., 2008b), and those goals can be prosocial or otherwise ben¬ 
eficial for their group, or antisocial or otherwise selfish (e.g., Galinsky, 
Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008; Overbeck and Park, 2006; Karremans 
and Smith, 2010). 

Of importance, the basic link between power and abstract thinking is 
functional, even if not all the consequences are desirable. Power hold¬ 
ers, due to their elevated position, have the big-picture perspective and 
breadth of knowledge best suited to abstract thinking (in contrast to 
those below them, who generally possess a narrower range of informa¬ 
tion). At the same time, this high-level view inherently reduces emphasis 
on, or perhaps even perception of, the details. For example, a CEO, 
being responsible for an entire organization, may be attuned to its sur¬ 
vival (financial performance), fundamental relationships (with external 
stakeholders, the board, regulators), and future goals. However, she may 
not be cognizant of how each of her decisions affects the activities, well¬ 
being, and security of each individual employee. As a result, the CEO may 
appear corrupt when those decisions create adverse impacts on members 
of the firm, even if risking the firm’s survival would have potentially worse 
long-term effects on more people. 1 


1 Beyond the effects of a CEO’s own processing style, CEOs must more often deal with 
major moral dilemmas than subordinates, by sheer nature of being the ones tasked with 
making important, impactful decisions. 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


57 


Corruption as a function of the perceiver 

Even if power holders are not actually more likely to exhibit corrupt 
behavior than those below them, various information-processing tenden¬ 
cies on the part of perceivers may nonetheless lead power holders to 
be seen as more corrupt. First, power holders, and thus their behav¬ 
iors, receive increased attention from others due to the control they have 
over resources and outcomes. As Fiske (1993) detailed in her “power 
as control” model, subordinates need to, and generally want to, form 
detailed impressions of power holders in an attempt to better understand 
these people and predict their behavior. This heightened attention also 
occurs because power holders are viewed as the representative of their 
group or organization (because the most prototypical group members 
frequently emerge as leaders, this can be logical; e.g., Hogg, 2001; see 
also Overbeck and Droutman, 2013). That is, they stand for the group 
itself, and thus, within a group context, they attract the most atten¬ 
tion. Indeed, individuals’ faces receive more attention and are better 
remembered when they are simply labeled as holding a high-status (vs. a 
low-status) job (Ratcliff, Hugenberg, Shriver et al., 2011). Such height¬ 
ened attention to power holders means more eyes are focused on their 
behaviors, both positive and negative, so their slip-ups are more likely to 
be noticed, not to mention broadcast to a wide audience (e.g., when a 
mail carrier cheats on his/her spouse, it does not make the front page). 
Furthermore, since negative information, particularly when it pertains to 
morality (e.g., Skowronski and Carlston, 1987), is processed more thor¬ 
oughly, is remembered better, and has a greater impact on impressions 
of individuals than positive information (i.e., positive-negative asymmetry 
or negativity bias', see Baumeister, Bratslavsky, Finkenauer et al., 2001, 
for a review), once any corrupt behavior on the part of a power holder is 
noticed, it will have undue influence on how others view the power holder. 
That is, the salience of both power and negative actions is heightened, so 
that when the two co-occur, their effect on impressions is pronounced. 

Second, because power holders and negative behaviors are distinctive, 
the two are more likely to be erroneously associated in people’s minds. 
Since people show better recall for distinctive stimuli, distinctive indi¬ 
viduals are particularly likely to be remembered when they do distinctive 
things. As a result, perceivers will overestimate the likelihood of these 
individuals performing that particular behavior, a phenomenon known as 


This role of being the group representative may also contribute to power holders being 
seen as corrupt. As representatives, power holders are often held responsible, both infor¬ 
mally and formally, for any inappropriate or immoral behavior on the part of individual 
group members. 


2 


58 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


illusory correlation (Chapman and Chapman, 1967). Negative stereotypic 
beliefs may be supported in part by illusory correlations. Hamilton and 
Gifford (1976) presented participants with information about majority 
and minority group members performing positive and negative behav¬ 
iors. They found that their participants overattributed negative behaviors 
to the minority group members, even though the ratio of the positive to 
negative behaviors in their studies was identical for the majority and the 
minority group. Power holders are not only more distinctive than those 
below them in the sense that they grab more attention, but they are also 
numerically distinct. In any given social group, high-power roles are 
ordinarily held by fewer individuals than are low-power roles. Therefore, 
observers will be likely to perceive a correlation between having power 
and behaving badly, even when no such correlation exists. 

Finally, to the extent that perceivers have the expectation that “power 
corrupts,” they will be prone to construing situations in a manner that 
confirms their expectations (exhibiting confirmation bias; Snyder, 1984). 
Many decisions made by power holders involve trade-offs among compet¬ 
ing interests and stakeholders. An outcome that is satisfying and clearly 
ethical to one group may seem hurtful and immoral to another. Due 
to their negative expectancies regarding power holders, perceivers may 
tend to focus on the more negative interpretation of power holders’ deci¬ 
sions, highlighting harms and failures while overlooking positive out¬ 
comes. Even when a decision is truly ambiguous, and neither harms nor 
benefits are clear, the lay belief that power corrupts may lead perceivers to 
assume that there must be some nefarious consequence soon to emerge. 


The rosy halo: power casts a positive light on 
those who hold it 

Given these reasons for having an association between power and cor¬ 
ruption, it would not be surprising for individuals to assume that power 
holders are immoral and should not be trusted. Indeed, some evidence 
suggests that people do take a negative view of those who have power 
over them. For example, previous studies have found a negative asso¬ 
ciation between supervisors’ power and both subordinates’ satisfaction 
(Bachman, 1968; Bachman, Smith, and Slesinger, 1966; Bruins, Elle- 
mers, and De Gilder, 1999) and judgments of the supervisors’ likeability 
(Bruins etal., 1999). However, we propose that this work - which has not 
specifically examined judgments relevant to corruption, per se - does not 
provide the final word. Instead, we propose that perceivers actually tend 
to regard the powerful, particularly those who have power over them, as 
more moral and less corrupt than those who are not especially powerful. 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


59 


The notion that individuals view power holders in a positive light, 
particularly in regard to morality and ethics, may contradict prevailing 
beliefs, but past research provides several points of support. First, indi¬ 
viduals generally prefer to believe that the world is just and fair and that 
people get what they deserve (e.g., the just-world hypothesis; Lerner, 
1980). Similarly, system-justification theory holds that individuals are 
motivated, both consciously and unconsciously, to perceive existing social 
arrangements and institutions as just and legitimate (Jost and Banaji, 
1994; Jost, Banaji, and Nosek, 2004). Acknowledging that one is forced 
to conform to the rules, norms, and conventions of a system that is ille¬ 
gitimate, unfair, and undesirable is likely to provoke considerable anxiety 
and threat (Kay, Gaucher, Napier et al., 2008). When little can be done 
to change this reality, people will likely be motivated to justify their sys¬ 
tem to reduce these negative feelings and regain a sense of control over 
their environment (Kay, Whitson, Gaucher et al., 2009b). Indeed, a study 
by Jost, Blount, Pfeffer et al. (2003) investigated ethical inferences con¬ 
cerning real and hypothetical companies and found that people gener¬ 
ally believed that profitable companies are more ethical than companies 
posting losses. That is, those who achieved success must be deserving 
of it and can be trusted. In the current context, this research suggests 
that individuals, motivated to avoid uncomfortable feelings of threat, will 
be increasingly inclined to view an authority in a positive light as that 
authority’s power increases. People may be motivated to perceive power 
holders as moral and ethical because such perceptions reassure them that 
the authorities who have control over their outcomes are benevolent and 
trustworthy. 

System justification motives are particularly likely to be active in those 
low in power due to the nature of lacking power. Being subject to others’ 
control is a generally aversive and threatening experience. There is often 
little low-power individuals can do about their situation, as those higher 
in rank control resources, outcomes, and the opportunities available to 
those below. Low-power individuals may have no choice but to accept the 
hierarchy. As such, these people are likely to adopt a system-justifying 
mind-set. In line with this idea, Kay, Gaucher, Peach et al. (2009a) 
found that individuals generally viewed existing power arrangements as 
more desirable than alternative arrangements, but this was especially true 
for those high in system dependence (the degree to which they felt their 
outcomes were dependent on the given system). Stevens and Fiske (2000) 
similarly found that evaluation-dependent individuals worked to form a 
positive impression of a power holder, discounting negative information 
about him or her. Thus, the more an individual feels dependent on 
and vulnerable to particular power holders - the more power the power 


60 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


holders wield over this individual - the more motivated the individual 
should be to view them in a positive light, trusting them more to do the 
right thing and generally showing more support for them. 

If subordinates are assuming morality on the part of power holders 
in part to legitimize their situation, then explicit legitimacy informa¬ 
tion should moderate this effect. When individuals are explicitly told 
that a power holder obtained his or her position through illegitimate 
means, system justification becomes futile: The hierarchical relationship 
is overtly unjust and unfair. The illegitimate power holder will then not 
benefit from the “rosy halo” normally obtained via system justification. 
Instead, these power holders will need to provide evidence of their moral 
credentials. 

Another possible explanation for the “leaders’ rosy halo” follows from 
the previously mentioned association between power and attention. High- 
power individuals attract more attention than low-power individuals 
(Ratcliff et al ., 2011). Due to diffusion of responsibility (Darley and 
Latane, 1968), with so many eyes likely to be watching, individuals may 
assume that someone else will be monitoring the power holders, so they 
feel little need to obtain direct evidence of power holders’ behavior them¬ 
selves. After all, if power holders are so prominent and visible, someone 
is likely to be keeping an eye on them, so they should be less likely to 
behave immorally. That is, the powerful may be seen as more moral 
not only because of perceivers’ motivation to see them as such but also 
because perceivers simply assume that power holders lack the latitude to 
transgress, even if they wanted to, because all eyes are on them. 

Finally, the disconnect between the maxim “power corrupts” and our 
arguments that perceivers likely see power holders as moral may reflect 
the general disconnect between evaluations of a group and evaluations of 
any one of that group’s individual members. In a classic study of the rela¬ 
tionship between intergroup attitudes and behavior towards out-group 
members, the sociologist Richard LaPiere traveled with a Chinese cou¬ 
ple around the USA in the 1930s, when there was widespread prejudice 
against Asians. Over the course of the trip, only one out of 251 hotels 
and restaurants refused to serve the couple. However, when LaPiere later 
contacted managers at the same hotels and restaurants and asked if they 
would serve a Chinese couple, over 90% of those who responded said 
they would not (LaPiere, 1934). 

It seems that general attitudes towards a group are often a poor pre¬ 
dictor of behavior towards specific individuals (e.g., Azjen and Fishbein, 
1977). In the case of power holders and morality, why might individuals 
err on the side of perceiving individual power holders more positively 
than power holders in general? Individual power holders are close to us: 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


61 


Our outcomes are determined by them (Magee and Smith, 2013). This 
level of closeness and dependency makes it difficult to view them so neg¬ 
atively (e.g., Stevens and Fiske, 2000). Furthermore, individuals know 
more specific information about any one particular power holder than 
about power holders in general. The presence of more information about 
an individual group member, especially information that is irrelevant to 
the stereotype of the greater group, weakens the relationship between 
attitudes towards the group and behavior towards the individual, par¬ 
ticularly when the individual is a member of an out-group (Fein and 
Hilton, 1992). Thus, because subordinates tend to know individuating 
information about those who hold power over them, they will be less 
likely to apply a general “power corrupts” stereotype to these individuals 
and instead will view them more favorably. 

Consistent with this argument, Critcher and Dunning (2013) showed 
that perceivers tend to expect more moral behaviors from an individ¬ 
ual than from the population that individual is a part of. Specifically, 
a randomly selected individual (e.g., an undergraduate at one’s univer¬ 
sity) was thought more likely to engage in moral or selfless behaviors 
(e.g., giving money to the homeless) than the full population (e.g., the 
entire student body). Similarly, Sears (1983) found that perceivers rated 
individual politicians (e.g., specific US senators) more positively than 
politicians in general. In like manner, we suspect that individual power 
holders may be seen in positive moral terms even as the “power corrupts” 
group stereotype persists. 


Evidence for the rosy halo 

Little work has explicitly examined how perceivers regard the powerful, 
but a recent series of studies offers support for our arguments. Overbeck, 
Tost, and Wazlawek (2013) asked participants to directly report their 
impressions of power holders’ moral character - the holding of moral 
values and willingness to act on those values (cf. Hogan, 1973) - and 
found consistent evidence contradicting the “power corrupts” perspec¬ 
tive. In an initial online experiment, participants were asked to imagine a 
single target person. The only information participants were given about 
this person was that he or she possessed either a low-power or a high- 
power position in an organization. Power was explicitly defined in terms 
of control over the distribution of valued resources and decision-making 
about personnel. Participants then rated this target person on eight dif¬ 
ferent attributes, all relating to moral character (e.g., “X models ethical 
conduct,” “X lacks a strong moral compass”). In contrast to the com¬ 
mon belief that power is associated with corruption, participants rated the 


62 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


high-power target person as being significantly higher in moral character 
than the low-power target person. 

Of course, this experiment used very minimal descriptions and asked 
about a hypothetical target, which may elicit different responses than 
specific real-life power holders. Thus, Overbeck et al. (2013) next sought 
to test the relation between power and moral judgments in the context 
of real authorities and organizations. In a follow-up study, they took 
advantage of the presence of a variety of high-power individuals in an 
executive education class on leadership to see how these real-life power 
holders were perceived by the employees who reported directly to them. 
In this survey, the direct reports rated their supervisor’s level of power 
and his/her moral character (e.g., “takes responsibility for doing what is 
right,” “argues for high ethical standards”). Replicating the results of the 
first study, this study found that the more power the supervisor had, the 
more he or she was judged to have high moral character. 

How far does this assumption of morality go? That is, to what extent 
do individuals give power holders the benefit of the doubt? Overbeck 
et al. were interested in the degree to which this assumption of morality 
on the part of power holders might substitute for other signs of trustwor¬ 
thiness. Transparency - the open provision and availability of information 
regarding decision-making - can act as a heuristic for gauging someone’s 
moral status. Not only does transparency allow for greater surveillance 
of a person’s behavior to ensure the person complies with moral norms, 
but the willingness to be transparent serves as a signal that the person 
plans to comply with these norms in the first place. Thus, the more a 
perceiver knows about the processes and reasons behind a person’s deci¬ 
sions, the more easily the perceiver should be persuaded that this person 
is behaving in line with moral norms (Rawlins, 2008). However, if a per¬ 
ceiver is predisposed to view the authority as moral for reasons separate 
from transparency, then the authority’s transparency is likely to be less 
critical in determining judgments of morality. That is, when the per¬ 
ceiver already has other reasons for presuming the authority to be moral, 
transparency is a less essential signal, both because in such a situation 
transparency offers little new information diagnostic of the authority’s 
morality and because surveillance is seen as less necessary. Therefore, if 
power holders are by default assumed to be moral, whether or not they 
are transparent regarding their decision-making processes will have less 
impact on judgments of their morality: Even a tight-lipped power holder 
will be judged as relatively moral. 

In the second study, participants also rated their supervisor’s trans¬ 
parency in terms of the provision of explanations for decisions (i.e., 
“is careful to explain his/her decisions,” “explains how decisions are 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


63 



—♦— Low power 
- -*■ - High power 


Figure 4.1 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on judgments 
of their moral character. 


made”). Transparency was positively related to judgments of the super¬ 
visor’s moral character, but this was moderated by an interaction with the 
supervisor’s power. There was a stronger positive effect of transparency 
when supervisors were perceived as having a low rather than a high level 
of power (see Figure 4.1). Though being transparent also helped high- 
power supervisors to be judged as more moral, it did not help them as 
much as low-power supervisors. In fact, they did not need the boost: 
High-power supervisors who were low in transparency were still judged 
to be relatively moral. 

One important implication of these effects regards the degree to which 
subordinates support their supervisors. Trust in the moral integrity of 
a colleague is a key determinant of support for him or her (Dirks and 
Ferrin, 2002). Transparency, as it increases perceptions of a colleague 
as moral, should increase support for that colleague (Norman, Avolio, 
and Luthans, 2010). However, if an observer is predisposed to perceive 
power holders as moral and ethical, transparency should have less of an 
effect on support because it provides the observer with little new informa¬ 
tion regarding the power holder’s worthiness for support. Indeed, when 
participants indicated the degree to which they evaluated their supervi¬ 
sor positively (e.g., “is an exceptional leader”), there was a significant 
interaction between power and transparency. Again transparency had a 
stronger effect when supervisors were perceived as having a low rather 
than a high level of power (see Figure 4.2). Notably, although high- 
power supervisors with high transparency were judged most positively, 




64 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


7 

6.8 
6.6 

6.4 

V, 6-2 

o 

I 6 

5 5.8 
5.6 

5.4 
5.2 

5 

Low transparency High transparency 

Figure 4.2 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on support 
for them. 



high-power supervisors with low transparency were still judged at least 
as positively as low-power supervisors with high or low transparency. 
Further analyses revealed that these effects were partially mediated by 
perceptions of moral character. In other words, high power appears to 
foster perceptions of morality, and these perceptions lead to increased 
support on the part of subordinates, even in the absence of transparency. 

Across both an experiment involving hypothetical targets varying in 
power and a field survey involving subordinates and supervisors in ongo¬ 
ing power relationships, Overbeck et al. (2013) found that more powerful 
individuals were judged to have higher moral character. Furthermore, this 
assumption of the greater morality of power holders was strong enough 
that high-power individuals did not need to be transparent regarding 
their decision-making processes to be seen as moral and to receive sup¬ 
port from their subordinates. Rather than “power corrupts,” people seem 
to assume that “power purifies.” 

Overbeck et al. (2013) further tested the boundaries of perceivers’ 
credulity by examining university students’ reactions to ostensible budget 
cuts at their university. All participants read a description of a fictional 
person, Mark Jones, supposedly the university’s head treasury officer 
(HTO), who was said to be leading a budget-cutting and allocation pro¬ 
cess at their university. In these descriptions Mark varied in terms of 
the power he held, the legitimacy of his position, and his transparency 
about recent decisions. Mark was described as having either low power 
(e.g., “there are a lot of restrictions on his authority”) or high power 




The leaders’ rosy halo 


65 


C3 

U 

© 

£ 


OX) 

3 


6.00 

5.00 

4.00 

3.00 

2.00 

1.00 

.00 


ll Jl 




i 


■ Low transparency 

■ High transparency 


High power, High power, Low power, Low power, 
High legitimacy Low legitimacy High legitimacy Low legitimacy 


Figure 4.3 Effect of supervisors’ power, legitimacy, and transparency 
on judgments of their moral character. 


(e.g., “he can essentially make the decision without any restrictions on 
his authority”). He either had “not much experience in this area” and 
was appointed by a family member to the position (low legitimacy), or 
had “extensive experience and a long list of accomplishments” and was 
elected to his position democratically (high legitimacy). Finally, he either 
had been providing “very little information” about recent decisions (low 
transparency) or had “issued a report providing extensive details about 
these decisions” (high transparency). After reading the description of 
Mark, participants rated how much morality-related descriptions (e.g., 
“ethical,” “selfish”) applied to Mark and how much they supported Mark 
(e.g., “I’m comfortable looking to Mark Jones for leadership”). 

As predicted, the effect of transparency on judgments of Mark’s moral 
character depended on Mark’s level of power and the legitimacy of that 
power (see Figure 4.3). As in the previous study, more transparency was 
always beneficial for Mark when he was low in power, regardless of the 
legitimacy of his position, and transparency did not matter when he had 
high, legitimate power, as he was then always viewed as being high in 
moral character. However, when Mark’s power was high yet illegitimate, 
things changed: Here he was viewed as being higher in moral charac¬ 
ter the more transparent he was. Once participants had clear evidence 
that Mark’s position could not be justified, they could no longer default 
to viewing him as moral and instead needed concrete evidence of his 












66 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


character. Similar effects were found on the amount of support partici¬ 
pants were willing to give Mark. 


Conclusions and implications 

On the surface, the idea that “power corrupts” seems to be taken as a 
given, trotted out by journalists and newscasters anytime a leader behaves 
scandalously. In this chapter, we attempted to bring some nuance to 
this blunt generalization. First, we demonstrated how power does not 
necessarily have a corrupting effect on individuals, but rather that both 
positive and negative effects may stem from the same basic, functional 
cognitive mechanism of power holders’ greater abstract thinking (Magee 
and Smith, 2013). We also explained how the distinctive nature of having 
power can lead power holders to appear to be more immoral, even when 
they are not behaving any worse than everyone else. 

Second, we discussed why, despite the apparent ubiquity of “power 
corrupts,” people might instead default to assuming that an individ¬ 
ual power holder, especially one who directly wields power over them 
personally, will actually be more moral than someone lacking in power. 
Assuming by default that power holders are moral and thus can be trusted 
and supported may help low-power individuals cope with the threaten¬ 
ing nature of their position. Indeed, when power holders clearly do not 
deserve the position they hold, they again need to provide evidence that 
they are behaving ethically before they are seen as moral and ethical. The 
attention that power holders grab may lead others to assume that power 
holders will behave morally because they are being watched. Addition¬ 
ally, people may still hold the stereotype that power holders in general 
are corrupt, but various cognitive processes lead this stereotype not to be 
applied to specific power holders. 

Third, we discussed data supporting this idea of the “leader’s rosy 
halo.” One consequence is that power holders have less of a need to 
demonstrate they are indeed behaving ethically (e.g., by being transpar¬ 
ent) in order to be seen as moral and ethical. 

This chapter offers a number of theoretical and practical contributions. 
To begin, we hope to push the discussion of what power does to those who 
possess it further away from black-and-white debates of “it’s bad” ver¬ 
sus “it’s good,” to more nuanced considerations of exactly what power 
does to people, when, and why. Power is a fundamental dimension of 
human relationships and a primary method of organizing social relations 
(Cartwright, 1959; Fiske, 1992). Hierarchies often facilitate coordina¬ 
tion, reduce conflict, and satisfy the human need for order and stability 
(Magee and Galinsky, 2008); in other words, they persist in part because 


The leaders’ rosy halo 


67 


they are functional. If all power holders were by definition corrupt, the 
world would quickly dissolve into chaos. Furthermore, proposing that 
power is inherently bad may be seen as its own form of system justifica¬ 
tion, a way of letting those without power feel that they actually are in 
the better position (Kay and Jost, 2003). 

Next, we echo many recent researchers in emphasizing the importance 
of putting the right people into positions of power (e.g., Galinsky et al., 
2008). Power reveals the person. It gives power holders external sup¬ 
port to pursue their goals by providing access to resources and remov¬ 
ing barriers and constraints (Keltner et al., 2003). It also gives power 
holders internal support by helping them ignore distractions and stay 
goal-focused (DeWall et al., 2011; Guinote, 2007; Smith et al., 2008b). 
It is thus critical to select, for positions of power, people who hold the 
sorts of goals that are most beneficial for the group (e.g., Karremans and 
Smith, 2010; Overbeck and Park, 2006). In this way, one can be more 
certain that power holders will indeed “do the right thing.” This certainty 
is especially important given that people’s default appears to be not to 
check for hard evidence of right- or wrongdoing on the part of power 
holders. 

We also extend existing research on how status and power differences 
affect social judgments (e.g., Fragale, Overbeck, and Neale, 2011) by 
demonstrating that individuals do not always make negative assumptions 
about power holders. The studies of Overbeck et al. (2013) demonstrate 
that power is positively associated with judgments of moral character 
and diminished needs for transparency. Such a pattern stands in stark 
contrast both to previous literature and to scholarly and popular dis¬ 
course. Given the surprising nature of these findings, follow-up research 
is necessary to determine the underlying mechanisms of this effect, as 
well as potential boundary conditions. Recent research has shown that, 
when individuals’ sense of personal control is threatened, they respond 
in a compensatory manner by heightening their sense of external order 
and control; among other things, they tend to bolster their sense of the 
legitimacy of authorities (Kay et al., 2009b), consistent with our findings. 

Finally, our arguments - and the evidence supplied by Overbeck et al. 
(2013) - underscore an important caution: Credulity towards the power¬ 
ful creates vulnerability. With legitimately acquired power, an actor can 
behave more freely, with fewer constraints and less demand for trans¬ 
parency. Yet this very freedom may foster less moral behavior, as sug¬ 
gested in recent work by Lammers and colleagues (2010) and Gruenfeld 
and colleagues (2008). As such, organizations would be well served by 
implementing formal systems that preserve transparency and compensate 
for members’ natural tendency to forgo monitoring of the powerful. 


68 


Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck 


Abraham Lincoln has been quoted (probably erroneously; Leidner, 
n.d.) as saying, “If you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” 
Similarly, we argue that power can be associated with corruption or 
morality, depending on the character of the power holder and the circum¬ 
stances under which he or she holds power. And, despite the common 
belief that power corrupts, individual perceivers judging individual power 
holders tend to show trust, credulity, latitude, and support towards the 
powerful. This may ease the burdens of subordinate status among all 
those who lack power, but, sadly, it does little to prevent the kinds of 
abuse reviewed at the start of this chapter. 


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5 “Power corrupts” revisited: the role of 
construal of power as opportunity or 
responsibility 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and 
Annika Scholl 


With the recent financial crises the stereotype that power corrupts 
returned to public discussion. The news media have often asked why 
bankers took such high risks to increase their personal income while they 
seemingly ignored the responsibility resulting from the fact that others’ 
savings and pensions depend on the bankers’ behavior. Indeed, the defi¬ 
nition of power as the asymmetrical control over others’ outcomes might 
suggest that those in power primarily consider the opportunities social 
power represents. But is it true that power holders mostly overlook the 
responsibility resulting from the fact that they can provide or withhold oth¬ 
ers’ access to desired outcomes? Do they forget that those low in power 
depend on them, or are vulnerable to the effects of their actions? And 
does this depend on individual preferences in terms of interest in power 
and the motivation to achieve power in the first place? 

The present chapter provides an answer to these questions about the 
construal of power as opportunity and responsibility, in three steps. First, 
we review research providing insights into whether power leads to self- 
serving behavior (i.e., making use of the opportunity power provides) or 
to the consideration of others’ perspectives and interests (i.e., the respon¬ 
sibility for others), in order to answer the question of whether there is a 
truth in the stereotype that power corrupts. This review will be embed¬ 
ded in a brief summary of the main theoretical approaches to power in 
social psychology. Second, we introduce the distinction between the con¬ 
strual of power as opportunity versus responsibility and current research 
on the impact of construal of power on interest in power. These studies 
provide an answer to the question of whether the construal of power as 
opportunity is indeed what motivates people to strive for power in the 
first place - if so, that would provide a reason why power is in many 
cases treated as opportunity (i.e., leads to more selfish behavior). Third, 


73 



74 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 


we summarize research addressing (the preconditions of) the construal 
of power as opportunity and responsibility, as well as its implications for 
the actions of the powerful. These sections suggest that there is no need 
to be paranoid about the powerful under conditions that cause power to 
be perceived and exercised primarily as responsibility, instead of oppor¬ 
tunity. The chapter is completed by a section summarizing the latest 
research on the meaning of power as opportunity versus responsibility, 
and pointing to avenues for further research. 


From power to responsible action 

Psychological research on the impact of power on individuals’ own 
behavior originates mostly in one of two traditions: the group-dynamic 
approach and the sociocognitive approach. 

The group-dynamic approach developed taxonomies of resources (e.g., 
rewards, expertise) by which people can gain control over others (e.g., 
French and Raven, 1959). Studies examined how these resources relate to 
interpersonal influence in natural and simulated groups (Emerson, 1964; 
Kipnis, 1972). This work suggested that people generally covet power 
(Mulder, 1977) and attempt to take over higher-power positions (Bruins 
and Wilke, 1992). The introduction of power differences easily disrupts 
harmonious social relations, because those high in power tend to devalue 
the performance of those low in power and attribute their effort to the 
influence of the powerful rather than to powerless individuals’ motivation 
(i.e., objectification - Kipnis, 1972). Moreover, power holders tend to 
use their power to facilitate individual goal achievement at the expense 
of others (Ng, 1980). 

These insights still dominate current views on the social implications 
of power. However, scholars have argued for a reappraisal of insights on 
power, in the light of novel theoretical and methodological developments 
(e.g., Haslam, 2004). In line with this, it has been shown, for exam¬ 
ple, that the attraction of power is limited to certain motivational states 
(Sassenberg, Brazy, Jonas et al, 2013; Sassenberg and Scholl, 2013) and 
that the impact of power on action is also dependent on power hold¬ 
ers’ social motivation, as will become evident from the summary below 
(e.g., Guinote, Weick, and Cai, 2012). In addition, the group-dynamics 
approach has paid relatively little attention to the psychological processes 
underlying the effects found - for example, the crucial role of the way in 
which power is cognitively construed. 

The sociocognitive approach to power has yielded new methodological 
developments (e.g., priming, implicit measures), studied intraindivid¬ 
ual processes underlying power, and manipulated rather than measured 
power to be able to draw conclusions about causality. Hence, the key 


The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility 


75 


characteristics of this approach made up for the limitations of large 
parts of the group-dynamics approach. In addition, the sociocognitive 
approach comes with a shift of the focus from structural differences in 
actual power to cognitively represented differences in power. This allows 
also for a more differentiated approach concerning the understanding 
(i.e., the construal) of power that lies at the heart of our own research 
presented below. 

The theoretical approaches dominating this research are the approach/ 
inhibition theory of power (AITP) (Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Anderson, 
2003) and the situated focus theory of power (SFTP) (Guinote, 2007a, 
2010). Both theories focus on the self-regulatory implications of high 
and low power. AITP suggests that high power leads to the activation of 
the behavioral approach system, and low power leads to the activation of 
the behavioral inhibition system, because the control among the powerful 
implied by their power reduces the requirement to care about restrictions 
and regulations suggested by the environment, whereas the lack of con¬ 
trol among the powerless requires that they adjust their behavior in line 
with the guidance provided by the powerful. Due to the impact on the 
approach and the inhibition system, elevated power elicits a readiness to 
act. Individual motivation and inner experiences (e.g., feelings) guide the 
powerful more than the powerless. 

Focusing more on information processing than on the motivational and 
psychological underpinnings, SFTP contains a slightly nuanced main 
prediction. It suggests that those in power are guided to a stronger extent 
by their current attentional and self-regulatory focus. In other words, 
high power allows individuals to do what is foremost in their minds, 
whether this results from situational influences or long-term goals. In 
contrast, those low in power suffer from less goal-focused information 
processing and action regulation, and this might ultimately result in lower 
goal achievement. SFTP argues that this outcome of power results from 
the fact that the powerful (due to their elevated control) can concentrate 
better on their current agenda, whereas those low in power always need 
to pay attention to potential threats and interventions by those high in 
power (Guinote, 2007a, 2010). 

In essence, both theories agree that the powerful show more unin¬ 
hibited goal-directed or approach-related action and are less likely to 
be distracted by the environment. Numerous findings support these 
predictions. For instance, compared to those low in power, the pow¬ 
erful act more (Anderson and Berdahl, 2002), show stronger approach 
tendencies (Maner, Kaschak, and Jones, 2010), are less influenced by 
environmental cues (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008), and are 
more focused in their goal striving (Guinote, 2007b; Slabu and Guinote, 
2010 ). 


76 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 


All in all, this provides pervasive evidence that power leads to a strong 
focus on one’s own goals - and this is certainly selfish in a way. But what 
about the impact of power on considering others and their needs? Despite 
the fact that both AITP and SFTP do not directly speak to interpersonal 
issues in general or to responsibility in particular, they allow us to derive 
predictions in the interpersonal domain due to effects on information 
processing. The fact that the powerful tend to focus on themselves and 
need to care less about others suggests that they will invest less in per¬ 
spective taking (Fiske, 1993). Indeed, there is evidence that the powerful 
show less empathy or reciprocal emotions (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al, 
2006; Gonzaga, Keltner, and Ward, 2008; Van Kleef, Oveis, van der 
Lowe et al., 2008; Woltin, Corneille, Yzerbyt et al., 2011). Consistent 
with this finding, those high in power, compared to those low in power, 
rely more on stereotypes (rather than individualizing information, e.g., 
Fiske, 1993; Guinote and Phillips, 2010; Guinote, Willis, and Martel- 
lotta, 2010), are less influenced by others (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld 
et al., 2008; Van Kleef, De Dreu, Pietroni et al., 2006), behave less altru¬ 
istically due to greater perceived social distance (Lammers, Galinsky, 
Gordijn et al., 2012), and consider the powerless merely as a means for 
goal attainment (i.e., they show objectification; Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee 
et al., 2008). In addition, when they are of low status the powerful behave 
in less inhibited (e.g., more aggressive; Fast and Chen, 2009; Gonzaga 
et al., 2008) and more demeaning ways towards others (Fast, Halevy, 
and Galinsky, 2012). 

Overall, these findings suggest that power does indeed lead to more 
selfishness and less responsibility. Together with the conclusion from the 
group-dynamics tradition, this suggests that power can indeed corrupt 
or at least tends to lead to self-centeredness and a focus on one’s own 
goals and opportunities rather than on others’ interests and concerns. 
However, early social cognitive research on power, directly addressed 
the question of whether power corrupts and provided evidence that this 
is not true - at least not across the board. Overbeck and Park (2001) 
found that when making decisions about their own and others’ outcomes, 
power holders individuated others more than did those low in power. 
Hence, when others are on the agenda of those high in power (due 
to task requirements), the powerful do direct attention to these others. 
Moreover, Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee (2003) predicted in line with 
AITP that high-power individuals tend to act more - no matter whether 
it is to their own benefit or not. Supporting this hypothesis, they found 
that individuals primed with high (compared to low) power not only took 
more resources out of a common good for themselves but also contributed 
more of their own resources to a common good. Thus, power does not 
necessarily lead to more selfish behavior (see also Schmid Mast, Jonas, 


The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility 


77 


and Hall, 2009) but it does lead to more focused and less inhibited 
behavior, as indicated by SFTP and AITP. 

This initial work suggested that merely studying the main effects of 
power does not allow us to capture the complexity of the effects of power. 
Therefore, recent research took a person-situation interaction approach. 
Studies addressing, for example, the moderating effect of individuals’ 
social-value orientations on the effect of power found that those with 
a strong prosocial orientation show more perspective taking, the more 
power they have, whereas those low in prosocial orientation think more 
selfishly when they are in power (Cote, Kraus, Cheng et al., 2011; for 
similar findings, see Blader and Chen, 2012; DeCelles, DeRue, Margolis 
et al., 2012). These findings are in line with SFTP: the powerful (but 
not those low in power) follow their generic dispositions. However, this 
only happens when the situation does not provide strong guidance for 
behavior (i.e., under these circumstances personal traits set the agenda 
of the powerful). However, if the situation does provide clear guidelines 
for behavior, power holders are influenced more than the powerless by 
situationally activated goals, to the extent that these apply to the situation 
at hand (for evidence, see Guinote et al., 2012). 

In sum, many studies have shown that power can induce selfish ten¬ 
dencies and lowered concern about the thoughts and motives of others, 
which seem to result from the independence power provides and the 
tendency to uninhibited action. This indicates that some paranoia about 
the powerful seems to be justified. More recent evidence, however, has 
revealed that the effects of power are not uniform. If individuals are 
oriented towards others - whether this is due to chronic tendencies, sit¬ 
uational activation, or goals - stronger power leads to more prosocial 
behavior. This provides the first evidence that the in situ construal of 
power deserves more attention. Put differently, how power holders con¬ 
strue their power in a given situation may explain differential effects on 
their behavior to others. The next section first introduces the construal 
of power as opportunity versus responsibility. After that, we summarize 
research on the question of how the construal of power relates to indi¬ 
viduals’ striving for power - that is, whether individuals are primarily 
attracted to power because they construe it as opportunity (this would in 
turn also render selfish behavior after getting into power more likely). 


The construal of power as opportunity or responsibility 
and its impact on the attraction of power 

The key element in scientists’ definition of power (and, therefore, in the 
current working definition mentioned above) is the asymmetrical con¬ 
trol over one’s own and another person’s outcomes (Fiske and Berdahl, 


78 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 


2006). Researchers have differentiated forms of power along several 
dimensions. French and Raven (1959) already suggested that social 
power can be based on a variety of the resources that power holders 
control (e.g., expertise, rewards). Overbeck and Park (2001) proposed 
that the asymmetry in control might imply either that one has power over 
others or that one is free from others. While these approaches address 
different forms of power, our aim here is to provide insights into the pre¬ 
conditions and consequences of different construals of the same form of 
power. 

Making use of the asymmetrical control over others’ outcomes (i.e., 
one’s social power) offers an opportunity to reach one’s own goals, but 
it also elicits the responsibility to consider how this impacts upon others’ 
goals. This has long been acknowledged in research on the power motive 
(e.g., Winter and Barenbaum, 1985). For instance, not only does a fund 
manager handling billions of euros have the opportunity to increase her 
own bonus in case of successful speculations, but she is also responsible 
for the investors’ savings and pensions. 

We have argued that social power “objectively” provides opportunity 
and responsibility at the same time. Flowever, social power does not 
necessarily raise perceptions of both implications to the same extent. In 
the case of the fund manager making investments, the perception of 
power as opportunity to achieve her own goals might predominate. In 
contrast, parents’ and teachers’ power over children and pupils tends to 
be conceived as responsibility for their children’s and pupils’ well-being. 
Moreover, also in (other) professional environments, some power holders 
construe their power as responsibility - for instance, when managers 
consider their subordinates’ needs, or journal editors take care to handle 
fairly the submissions they receive (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001). 

The way in which power is construed might affect the attraction of 
power in the first place. When power is primarily construed as opportu¬ 
nity, the elevated control implied by power can be used to pursue one’s 
own goals and interests. In this case, gaining power is expected to ease 
the access to desired states. When, by contrast, power is construed as 
responsibility, the outcomes of lower-power others become a concern 
of the (potentially) powerful person. This might be seen as a potential 
additional requirement to be fulfilled, rendering power less attractive. 
Therefore, we predicted that power is less attractive when construed 


We prefer this terminology of power construed as opportunity versus responsibility over 
the labels “personalized” and “socialized” power (e.g., Torelli and Shavit, 2010, 2011), 
because of potential confusion with personal and social power (as used by Lammers, 
Stoker, and Stapel, 2009), which describe different forms of power. 


l 


The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility 


79 


as responsibility than when it is construed as opportunity (Sassenberg, 
Ellemers, and Scheepers, 2012). 

To test this prediction, we conducted several experiments in which 
we directly manipulated the construal of power as opportunity versus 
responsibility. To this end, we applied a mind-set-priming procedure. 
Participants imagined being a member of an organizing committee for a 
sports event. In this powerful role, they evaluated certain measures. In 
the opportunity-mind-set condition, this evaluation was concerned with 
the contribution of these measures to the success of the event, whereas 
in the responsibility-mind-set condition it was concerned with ethical 
responsibility. The attraction of power was always assessed as part of an 
ostensibly unrelated study. In two experiments, participants were asked 
to think of a high-power group and a low-power group of their choice 
within an organization that both had medium status. Then, they rated 
their interest in becoming a member of each of these groups. In line with 
the hypothesis, interest in membership in high-power groups was stronger 
than interest in membership in low-power groups when power was con¬ 
strued as opportunity, but not when power was construed as responsibil¬ 
ity. Thus, the construal of power as responsibility substantially reduced 
the impact of the power position of the group on group attraction (i.e., it 
reduced the attraction of power). This finding held when controlling for 
individuals’ exchange and communal orientation. This effect is in line 
with the research reviewed above, showing that situational cues that acti¬ 
vate relevant goals can overrule interindividual differences in relational 
orientation, while the latter mainly guide behavioral preferences in more 
ambiguous situations. 

An additional experiment using implicit measures indicated that the 
impact of construal of power on the attraction of power holds not only 
for group power but also for individual power (e.g., roles). A final exper¬ 
iment further examined the processes underlying the differential attrac¬ 
tion of power. Our argument that power construed as opportunity is 
more attractive relies on the assumption that it is seen as facilitating goal 
achievement. Therefore, we reasoned that, in particular, individuals who 
are eager to achieve their goals should be attracted by power construed as 
opportunity. Regulatory focus theory (Higgins, 1997) defines a promo¬ 
tion focus as a motivational state in which individuals eagerly accomplish 
their goals. Therefore, we predicted that the more strongly individuals 
focus on promotion, the more they should be attracted by high power 
when it is construed as opportunity (vs. responsibility). This prediction 
was tested in an experiment designed to replicate the preceding study, and 
to assess individuals’ chronic regulatory focus. In line with predictions, in 
the power as opportunity condition individuals with a stronger promotion 


80 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 


focus were more attracted to power; this relation was not found in the 
power as responsibility condition. 

Together, these experiments demonstrate that power construed as 
opportunity is more attractive than power construed as responsibility. 
This suggests that individuals usually try to attain power due to its poten¬ 
tial positive impact for the achievement of their own goals. To the extent 
that this specific interest in power increases the likelihood that these indi¬ 
viduals will become powerful, this result would indeed be a reason to 
become somewhat paranoid about those in power. But is it also possi¬ 
ble that individuals in Western cultures construe their power in terms of 
responsibility? Under which conditions is this the case, and what are the 
behavioral consequences? 


When power is construed as opportunity versus 
responsibility 

The majority of findings summarized above found heightened self- 
centeredness among power holders. This suggests that the majority of 
the power holders construe their power as opportunity. Research on 
power and culture provides some insights into why this pattern of results 
predominates in power research. It suggests that the self-centeredness of 
those high in power has been found in sociocognitive power research, 
at least in part due to the method used (i.e., power priming) and the 
social context in which the research has been conducted (Western cul¬ 
tures). Both aspects render a construal of power as opportunity more 
likely. Zhong, Magee, Maddux et al. (2006) have argued that the rela¬ 
tional values predominant in Western and in East Asian cultures might 
have a different impact on the spontaneous construal of power. They 
assumed that valuing independence leads to a conceptualization of power 
“around influence and entitlement in the West, with behavior assertively 
driven towards satisfying oneself. In contrast, East Asians conceptual¬ 
ize power around responsibility and tend to consider how their behavior 
affects others” (Zhong etal., 2006, p. 53), due to the strong endorsement 
of interdependence in these cultures. Zhong and colleagues studied the 
semantic concepts Westerners and East Asians associated with power and 
indeed found that Americans of European descent spontaneously asso¬ 
ciate power more with opportunity, whereas Asians and Asian-Americans 
associate power more with responsibility. This provides the first direct 
evidence for the impact of culture on the construal of power and explains 
why, in studies conducted with European and American participants and 
relying on the spontaneous conceptualization of power, the opportunity 
meaning prevails. 


The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility 


81 


Relying on similar arguments, Torelli and Shavitt (2010) provided 
more direct evidence that relational values associated with cultures influ¬ 
ence the construal of power. In a series of studies, they found evidence 
that individuals endorsing vertical individualism (i.e., individuals striving 
to be better than others) see “power as something to be used for advancing 
one’s personal agenda and . . . powerful status.” In their studies, vertical 
individualism was associated with accepting misuse of power more, with 
higher social dominance orientation (i.e., acceptance of hierarchies), and 
with more selfish behavior. In contrast, horizontal collectivists (i.e., indi¬ 
viduals valuing subordination to groups and authorities and engagement 
in favor of the in-group) perceive “power as something to be used for 
benefiting others” (p. 717). Horizontal collectivism was associated with 
more prosocial behavior and the motivation to use one’s power to help 
others. These findings suggest that vertical individualists see power hold¬ 
ers as entitled to focus on their own goals and outcomes. They are thus 
more likely to construe power as opportunity. In contrast, according to 
horizontal collectivists, power holders need to care about other people’s 
concerns and outcomes and, therefore, seem to construe power rather as 
responsibility. According to these findings, the powerful should be more 
likely to be corrupted (i.e., to act in a selfish way) in vertical individualist 
cultures than in horizontal collectivist cultures. 

Based on these findings, research priming social power in Western and, 
thus, mostly vertical individualist samples (i.e., most of the sociocognitive 
power research to date) will produce findings that apply when power is 
construed as opportunity (i.e., the common construal of power in these 
societies). Torelli and Shavitt (2011) provided evidence for this notion. 
They demonstrated that when primed with power, vertical individualists, 
but not horizontal collectivists, show more stereotyping (i.e., a sign of 
power holders’ self-centeredness that has also been reported in earlier 
research on the impact of power; cf. Guinote and Phillips, 2010; Guinote 
et al., 2010). Therefore, research priming power in Western cultures - in 
other words, activating the predominant spontaneous construal of power 
as opportunity - will most likely not reveal what happens if the powerful 
focus on others and, thus, construe power as responsibility. 

But there is also empirical evidence identifying some of the precondi¬ 
tions of the construal of power as responsibility in Western cultures. The 
research showing that (within Western cultures) the impact of power on 
selfish versus prosocial behavior depends on individuals’ traits already 
indicates that some members of Western cultures tend to construe power 
as responsibility. In line with this notion, Chen et al. (2001) were the 
first to demonstrate that the consequences of different types of goals that 
individuals associate with power depend on their relational values. To 


82 Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 

the extent that individuals had a communal orientation (Clark, Ouel¬ 
lette, Powell et al, 1987), they were expected to primarily consider the 
responsibility associated with power (Chen et al ., 2001). In contrast, 
power holders with a strong exchange orientation (Murstein, Wadlin, and 
Bond, 1987) were expected to associate power with their own opportuni¬ 
ties. Indeed, Chen et al. (2001) found that when primed with social power 
(vs. a control) individuals with a stronger communal (vs. exchange) orien¬ 
tation behaved with more social responsibility towards other individuals 
and showed a greater concern for social approval. Hence, interindividual 
differences alter the construal of power within the same social context. 

However, as indicated by the examples of teachers and parents above, 
the construal of power might be affected not only by the long-term social 
context (i.e., culture and interindividual differences) but also by the more 
immediate social context. In our own research, we aimed to provide evi¬ 
dence for this assumption by focusing on a social-structural variable - 
namely, group status (Scheepers, Ellemers, and Sassenberg, 2013). The 
standing of their own group, organization, or system - in which some 
individuals have high power and others have low power - should affect 
the construal of power and hence impact upon the willingness of those 
in power to take risks on behalf of their group. That is, we argued that 
broader concerns about the status of one’s own group affect the behav¬ 
ioral opportunities and outcome expectations of individual group mem¬ 
bers. A group with low status has nothing to lose and only something to 
gain. A power holder in this group may thus be willing to try even risky 
ways to improve the status of the group. In contrast, in a group with high 
status, both the low-power members and the powerful belonging to this 
group have a lot to lose (namely, their status) and not so much to gain. 
When group goal achievement is at stake, the relatively higher risk of 
losing when the group has high (vs. low) status should render a construal 
of power as responsibility more likely. Within a business simulation, par¬ 
ticipants received randomly determined feedback concerning their com¬ 
pany’s performance after a first round of decisions that indicated either 
high or low company status. Subsequently, participants learned that in 
the second round they would be in a high power role (CEO) within 
their company and make all relevant decisions. Afterwards, participants 
rated the responsibility their power implied. Power holders in high-status 
groups were more inclined to construe their power as responsibility than 
those in low-status groups, as anticipated. Furthermore, they tended to 
make less risky (i.e., more prevention-focused) decisions on behalf of the 
group. Thus, the construal of power as responsibility does indeed depend 
on the social context providing the power. 

In sum, the research summarized in this section suggests that, in West¬ 
ern cultures, the construal of power as opportunity is the default way to 


The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility 


83 


perceive power, providing a basis for the paranoia about the powerful. 
However, if the social context and the goals made salient therein raise 
power holders’ concerns about others and their needs, power is construed 
as responsibility also among Westerners. 


Conclusion 

The present chapter revisited the question “Does power corrupt?” by a 
review of three bodies of literature: (1) the work on the impact of power 
on selfish and other-oriented behavior, (2) research on the impact of 
construal of power on the attraction of power, and (3) research on the 
preconditions of the construal of power as opportunity versus responsi¬ 
bility. 

The first body of literature - on the impact of power - suggests that 
power leads to selfish rather than to responsible behavior. However, there 
is also some evidence that points in the opposite direction. This incon¬ 
sistency is resolved by recent studies suggesting that when situations are 
weak or ambiguous (as stated by Snyder and Ickes, 1985), the impact of 
individuals’ chronic relational orientation is accelerated by social power. 
However, strong situational cues can raise specific goals or concerns that 
overrule these individual tendencies. Thus, the situation in which power 
is embedded ultimately determines the impact of power on selfish versus 
other-oriented behavior, and this offers scope for regulations aiming to 
suppress selfish tendencies among those in power. 

The second body of research on the impact of construal of power on 
attraction of power adds that attempts to gain access to power may be pri¬ 
marily driven by the opportunities it seems to provide. This is likely to be 
a relevant motive especially for those who are eager to achieve their goals, 
and this may be a cause for paranoia about the powerful. If we assume that 
those who are especially interested in gaining access to power are more 
likely to end up having it, power holders are likely to use the opportu¬ 
nities thus gained primarily to advance their own interests. Our research 
on construal of power offers hope that there is scope to curb such per¬ 
nicious effects. That is, emphasizing the responsibilities that come with 
power might less easily attract individuals to such positions in the first 
place, but is more likely to attract them for socially responsible rather 
than selfish reasons. This shows the crucial importance of considering - 
and if necessary adapting - individuals’ construal of power towards 
responsibility rather than only seeing it as opportunity. 

The third body of research on the role of social context in shaping 
the construal of power found that in Western/vertical individualist cul¬ 
tures and among exchange-oriented individuals, power is spontaneously 
construed as opportunity, while, in East-Asian/horizontal collectivist 


84 


Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl 


cultures and among communal-oriented individuals, power is mostly 
construed spontaneously as responsibility. This also explains why many 
studies using power priming (i.e., spontaneous power construal) in West¬ 
ern samples find that power raises selfish behavior. Future research 
should therefore carefully consider whether this type of work offers an 
adequate image of how power is actually construed in the context to 
which the findings are to be applied. To put it more simply: also in West¬ 
ern cultures, there are specific domains, such as learning and education, 
where power is likely to be construed in terms of responsibility rather 
than opportunity. Therefore, the results from priming research relying 
on spontaneous construals of power as opportunity do not necessarily 
inform conclusions about the use of power in these contexts. To address 
these potential limitations, future research should not only manipulate 
the experience of power but also consider the construal of power within 
a situation. Our own studies provide initial evidence that earlier findings 
on the effects of power actually speak to power construed as opportunity, 
but that different effects are obtained if power is construed as responsi¬ 
bility (De Wit, Scheepers, Ellemers et al., 2012) .This illustrates another 
limitation of prior research revealed in this review - namely, that research 
so far has barely assessed directly the construal of power (for exceptions, 
see Scheepers et al., 2013; Zhong et al., 2006). Future research might 
consider doing so and thereby gain insights into the understanding of the 
mechanisms underlying the impact of power on selfish and responsible 
behavior. 

And after all that - does power really corrupt? We have seen that 
selfish behavior can be raised by power. However, this is only the case 
if the context suggests that it is appropriate to apply power in selfish 
interests or if an individual obtaining power has such selfish motives. 
Power does indeed strengthen these motives, and selfish action becomes 
more likely. We have also concluded that horizontal individualists are 
likely to construe power as opportunity, and this is what makes power 
seem attractive in the first place. All in all, this suggests that, ultimately, 
the corrupt go for power rather than that power corrupts. 


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Greenwich, CT: Elsevier. 




II 


Politics 




6 


Never trust a politician? Collective distrust, 
relational accountability, and voter response 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 


Voters are good at detecting phonies. A google search for “fake” and 
the name of a losing American presidential candidate the day after the 
election yielded cynical comments about his fake tan, his staged charity, 
his Active heritage, his fraudulent polls, and his rigged voting machines. 
The winner did little better, but, on average, polled as more motivated to 
serve the interests of middle-class voters. The candidate-voter dynamic 
depends on politicians being trusted not to put their own self-interest 
(gaining and keeping power) over that of the voters who elect them. We 
argue here that trust is a critical - if not the critical - judgment that voters 
make. 

Every few years, voters evaluate candidates, and political leaders result. 
Much ink, many minutes, and even more bytes analyze elections both 
formally (political science) and informally (public media). But elections 
are about people, and social psychologists know a lot about people. We 
come to this project as social psychologists interested in how people make 
sense of individuals as group members and groups as society members. 
As we will show, politicians are acknowledged to be powerful, but are 
disliked and distrusted around the world. 

We argue that the politician-versus-citizen distrust depends on a failure 
of relational accountability, citizens’ lacking trust in politicians’ shared 
intentions. Politicians have a goal to get and maintain power, and voters 
have a goal to elect politicians who will represent their interests and 
adopt competent policies. Knowing for sure only that a candidate wants 
to win power, voters must infer whether the candidate genuinely cares 
about anything else, and, if so, represents their long-term shared interests. 
Apparently most politicians consistently fail on this dimension. 

We will first present background on one model to analyze political 
person perception, based on fundamental dimensions of social cognition, 
and then present evidence for the role of affect that results from these 
perceptions and determines people’s vote. We close with some comments 
about relational accountability. 


91 



92 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 


Fundamental dimensions of social cognition 

Foreshadows 

In 1946, Solomon Asch asked students about two different people, both 
described as competent ( intelligent, skillful, industrious, determined, practi¬ 
cal, cautious ), but one as warm and the other as cold. Those two central 
warm-cold traits entirely determined the meaning of the competence- 
related traits in the overall impression. In this demonstration, Asch 
showed that warmth and competence are two critical dimensions of 
impression formation. Open-ended descriptions of the warm and cold 
person indicate that this central dimension includes being trustworthy: 
generous, good-natured, wise, humane, and altruistic. 

Years later, a more systematic study of trait adjectives in impressions 
used multidimensional scaling of representative trait adjectives to identify 
the underlying dimensions: social good-bad and intellectual good-bad 
(Rosenberg, Nelson, and Vivekananthan, 1968). The social dimension 
anchored on warm, sociable, good-natured, sincere, trustworthy, honest, 
and their opposites; the intellectual dimension anchored on skillful, per¬ 
sistent, industrious, scientific, and their opposites. Around the same time 
period, small-groups research identified leaders as being either social or 
task oriented (Bales and Slater, 1955), again affirming these two similar 
dimensions. 


Candidates 

Into this context came our early project on political person perception. 
At the time, political behavior research was focused on party identifica¬ 
tion as predicting American voters’ choices. Some of us, meddling social 
psychologists (Abelson, Kinder, Peters et al., 1982), saw election cam¬ 
paigns as a case of mass person perception, millions of voters all forming 
impressions of the same few candidates. Would the same principles apply? 
Would traits sort on these different dimensions? And what would be their 
consequences for feelings and behavior? 

In one study, voters rated the current presidential candidates (Carter, 
Ford, Edward Kennedy, Reagan) on sixteen traits (eight positive, eight 
negative): courageous, warm, honest, smart, humble, knowledgeable, 
open-minded, inspiring, immoral, too political, selfish, weak, reckless, 
unstable, power-hungry, and prejudiced. In another, they rated Carter, 
Edward Kennedy, Reagan, Connally, Baker, and George H. W. Bush 
on a subset of six traits and trait-like behaviors: moral, dishonest, weak, 
knowledgeable, power-hungry, inspiring, solve our economic problems. 


Never trust a politician? 


93 


provide strong leadership, and develop good relations with other coun¬ 
tries. In a separate analysis, we found these traits to sort on a competence 
factor and an integrity factor (Kinder and Fiske, 1986) related to Rosen¬ 
berg et al.’s two factors. Traits - competence and warmth together - 
predicted voting behavior even controlling for issue stands. 

Since that time, similar trait dimensions have appeared in citizens 
describing the Polish president and qualities missing in politicians in gen¬ 
eral (Wojciszke and Klusek, 1996), related to Wojciszke’s broader model 
of morality (trustworthiness) and competence in person perception. Sim¬ 
ilar dimensions described a typical US congressman before and after a 
scandal (Funk, 1996), both American and Italian presidents (Caprara 
and Zimbardo, 2004), and US presidents (Popkin, 2012). 


Groups in society 

Theories often stem from multiple sources, of which their developer is 
only half-conscious. Fifteen years after participating in the candidate- 
perception studies, Fiske developed a model of ambivalent sexism with 
Peter Glick (e.g., Glick and Fiske, 1996), positing hostile and subjectively 
benevolent biases towards different kinds of women. In retrospect, hostile 
sexism targets were stereotypically competent but cold women (female 
professionals), whereas benevolent sexism targets were stereotypically 
warm but incompetent women (housewives). Implicit in this ambiva¬ 
lence, then, is a trade-off between the two fundamental dimensions. 

Soon after, Fiske (1998) was searching for a way to systematize a 
more general discussion of out-groups in society, and the nice-but- 
dumb versus smart-but-cold distinction seemed to fit many groups. This 
stereotype-content model contradicted the prevailing notion that out¬ 
groups are stereotyped as either entirely good or entirely bad. Soon, 
studies suggested that people do sort all kinds of societal groups along 
the two warmth and competence dimensions (Fiske, Cuddy, Glick et al ., 
2002 ). 

First, members of society ask themselves, does this group (e.g., new 
immigrants) intend good or ill to me and my group? If they have good 
intentions, they are warm and trustworthy; otherwise, exploitative and 
untrustworthy. Their intentions are inferred from their perceived coop¬ 
erative or competitive stance, an understanding of social structure open 
to political framing and misperception, of course. 

Second, having an impression of the group’s intentions, people seek 
to know whether the group can enact them - namely, their apparent 
competence. Competence is inferred from perceived status (economic 
success, prestige). 


94 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 


This warmth x competence space accommodates various cultures’ 
groups, all over the world (Cuddy, Fiske, Kwan et al., 2009; Durante, 
Fiske, Kervyn et al., 2013 ; see Figures 6.1-6.6). Related frameworks 
exist, but this one builds most explicitly on prior person-perception work, 
applied to societal groups (Cuddy et al., 2008; Fiske et al., 2007). 

Most relevant here is the fact that politicians appear in several coun¬ 
tries’ listing of groups that matter to their society. How are politicians 
viewed, and what does this mean for reactions to them? 


Politicians in the warmth by competence space 

In this framework for examining social groups, some international sam¬ 
ples rate politicians as part of a competent-but-cold cluster (with rich 
people, for German-Swiss and French-Swiss), others rate them in an 
incompetent-and-cold cluster (with disreputable scum, in Italy, India, 
Mexico), and some rate them as low warmth but in-between compe¬ 
tence (Portugal). In all cases, politicians as a group are rated as not 
warm and sincere, not-us. 

Closer examination led us to notice the relationship between our data 
and the Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI), in which 0 means that 
a country is perceived as highly corrupt and 10 means that a country 
is perceived as very clean. In Switzerland, politicians are perceived as 
competent but cold and CPI = 8.8. In Portugal, where politicians are 
perceived as of middling competence, CPI = 6 . 1 . In Mexico, India, and 
Italy, politicians are low on competence, and CPI = 3 . 0 , 3 . 1 , and 3 . 9 , 
respectively. So, at least concerning politicians, perceptions of compe¬ 
tence seem related to perceptions of corruption, while warmth/trust are 
not (conversely to what one might expect, but all politicians score low on 
that dimension, so it has no variance) (see Chirumbolo and Leone, this 
volume). 

A detailed look conveys some specific impressions. In the French- 
Swiss sample (Figure 6.1), politicians appear alongside competent-but- 
cold rich people, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, young people, and unem¬ 
ployed people. Politicians emphatically do not share the in-group space 
with Swiss people in general, Italian-Swiss, French-Swiss, German- 
Swiss, the middle class, students, generic men and women, Protestants, 
Catholics, or even atheists. Politicians, though definitely not trusted, are 
not incompetent, a space reserved for drug addicts, Gypsies, and asylum 
seekers. 

For the German-Swiss sample (Figure 6.2), politicians appear along¬ 
side rich people and managers, but outside the warmer in-group cluster, 


Never trust a politician? 


95 


high 



low Competence high 

Figure 6.1 French-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed 
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 


high 



low Competence high 

Figure 6.2 German-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed 
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 





















96 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 



Figure 6.3 Italian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, both 
incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 


which contains Swiss people in general, German-Swiss, French-Swiss, 
students, academics, generic men and women, the middle class, and 
even gays. The worst out-groups, drug addicts, the unemployed, Mus¬ 
lims, and rightists, are more incompetent than politicians but just as low 
on warmth; in other words, politicians are just as mistrusted as society’s 
outcasts. In both Swiss samples, then, politicians appear with rich people 
and entrepreneurial groups, thought to be competent, but not trusted as 
on “our side.” 

Italian politicians also are mistrusted, and they do locate among the 
worst out-groups, alongside outcasts, immigrants, poor, and unem¬ 
ployed. But they are not far from the more competent but still mistrusted 
crooks and Mafiosi (Figure 6.3). 

Likewise, in India, politicians are the lowest of the low, below even 
the unemployed, the uneducated, day laborers, and the scheduled castes 
(formerly Untouchables). No other groups come even close to such neg¬ 
ative reactions (Figure 6.4). 

Similarly, Mexican politicians seem no better than their culture’s least 
competent and trustworthy: pampered prep-school “fresas” (strawber¬ 
ries) and gay men (Figure 6.5). All three of these cultures view politicians 
with distrust, specifically contempt, but evidently with somewhat differ¬ 
ent cultural meanings. 












Never trust a politician? 


97 


high 



low 

low Competence high 


Figure 6.4 Indian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, both 
incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. FC: Forward Caste 
(not eligible for positive discrimination or other related government 
benefits); daily wager: day laborer; IT: information technology; SC/ST: 
Scheduled Caste or Scheduled Tribe, formerly known as “Untouch¬ 
ables,” now eligible for positive-discrimination quotas. 



Figure 6.5 Mexican sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, 
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 













98 Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 



Figure 6.6 Portuguese sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, 
slightly competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 

The remaining country where respondents had nominated politicians 
as a culturally significant group was Portugal (Figure 6.6), where the 
politician image falls between these least-competent and most-competent 
images, while sharing the universal distrust and perceived low warmth. 
Portuguese politicians seem slightly more competent than Gypsies, poor 
people, immigrants, and Indians. They locate in the same cluster as 
rich people and entrepreneurial people (Chinese people, Eastern people, 
Black people), as well as gays and “aunties” (rich relatives, women from 
fancy neighborhoods who are not necessarily rich but are very snobbish). 
None of these groups are trusted, and none of them are as competent as 
the cultural in-groups (the middle class, Whites, Catholics, generic men 
and women). 

So in these varied cultures around the globe, each map of society 
places politicians squarely in the low-trust or low-warmth half of the 
space, sometimes more competent and sometimes less, but never the 
societal in-group. Whatever happened to “our leaders”? 


Affect matters 

Part of the story appears in our emotional reactions to politicians. Next 
we examine the role of emotion in reaction to the universally distrusted 
politicians. As we will see, emotion matters because it predicts political 
behavior. 








Never trust a politician? 


99 


Warmth, competence, emotions, and behavior 

The stereotype-content model predicts that stereotypes provoke emotion. 
By this model and evidence from a variety of social groups (e.g.. Cuddy 
et al., 2009; Fiske et al., 2002), the societal in-group part of the space 
(high warmth, high competence) evokes pride and admiration. Politicians 
as a group thus are not a source of pride. 

Groups seen as well intentioned but incompetent (e.g., disabled or 
older people) evoke pity, but politicians as a group are nowhere seen as 
well intentioned. So pity seems unlikely. 

Instead, they land in the untrustworthy half of the space, which evokes 
resentment and anger, overall. Specifically, ill-intentioned groups elicit 
disgust and contempt if they are low status and allegedly incompe¬ 
tent: poor people, drug addicts, the homeless, and immigrants, in many 
places - and politicians in Italy, Mexico, India, and maybe Portugal. 
Other ill-meaning groups elicit envy and jealousy if they are high status 
and allegedly competent: rich and entrepreneurial people, in many places 
- and politicians in German and French Switzerland. Neither disgust nor 
envy is a good set of emotions. 

Both emotions directed at distrusted groups (disgust, envy) predict 
active harm, attacking, and fighting - not a good prognosis for politicians. 
The disgusting ones would also elicit passive neglect, whereas the envied 
ones would elicit passive association (Cuddy, Fiske, and Glick, 2007). 
Neither sounds like a ringing endorsement for re-election. Gaining trust, 
then, would seem to be a candidate’s biggest task. 


Importance of affect for politicians 

Emotion-related reactions such as trust have a history in political psychol¬ 
ogy. Going back to the Abelson et al. (1982) political-person-perception 
project, the trait impressions of candidates did predict voting preference, 
but affects were even stronger predictors. Affects, positive and nega¬ 
tive separately, together predicted overall candidate evaluations and vote 
intentions, adding significant variance beyond trait impressions and party 
identification. 

Participants in both studies were asked a question about each candidate 
(four in Study 1, six in Study 2): Has [candidate], “because of the kind of 
person he is or because of something he has done, ever made you feel [in 
Study 2] afraid? angry? disgusted? uneasy? hopeful? proud? sympathetic?” 
(Study 1 asked also about disliking; being frustrated, sad, or happy; and 
liking, but these were later dropped.) The most striking initial finding 
came from the ten separate factor analyses (one for each candidate). 


100 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 


In every case, positive and negative affects loaded on independent factors. 
Over time, the extent to which a candidate has made a voter hopeful, 
proud, and sympathetic is unrelated to how much the candidate has also 
made that voter feel afraid, angry, disgusted, and uneasy. The trick for 
a successful candidate, then, is to make voters feel positive emotions, 
and not to feel negative ones. The independence of positive and negative 
affect turns out to be common in attitudes (Cacioppo and Berntson, 
1994) and in mood (Watson and Tellegen, 1985). 

In the 2008 Obama-McCain election campaign, hope, pride, and fear 
clearly mattered (Finn and Glaser, 2010). When in-depth histories are 
written, emotions will likely be shown for the 2012 US election as well. 
Certainly, between the variously studied elections, affect has mattered 
separately and at least as much as trait impressions (to sort decided 
and undecided voters’ preferences in a Texas gubernatorial race: Christ, 
1985; to predict US presidential elections in 1972, 1976, 1980, and 
1984: Granberg and Brown, 1989; student voters’ reactions to national 
political figures: Jones and Iacobucci, 1989; and approval of Presidents 
Carter and Reagan: Ragsdale, 1991). 

The primacy of affect in predicting reaction to politicians echoes affec¬ 
tive primacy in other domains, such as racial stereotypes and emotional 
prejudices predicting racial discrimination (Talaska, Fiske, and Chaiken, 
2008) and the importance of affect in intergroup reactions more generally 
(Mackie and Smith, 1998). But is this a good idea for democracy? 


Role of emotions in decisions 

Emotional decisions are not necessarily irrational. In a related domain, 
automatically activated attitudes are adaptive, helping people to decide 
efficiently what to approach and what to avoid (Fazio, Sanbonmatsu, 
Powell et al ., 1986). In the 1984 US presidential race between Reagan and 
Mondale, attitude accessibility was the crucial mechanism, mediating the 
relationship between attitudes and perceptions of debate performance, as 
well as between attitudes and voting (Fazio and Williams, 1986). Easily 
activated evaluations - and doubtless emotions - help voters to interpret 
and act effectively. 

Beyond attitudes, affect matters much of the time. Emotion-based 
responses are often adaptive (Pham, 2007); integral emotions (evoked 
by a target) indicate its value, promoting responses that are efficient, 
consistent, definitive, present-focused, magnitude-insensitive, and rela¬ 
tivistic. Emotion-based decisions provide, for better or worse, a secure 
foundation. Emotional reactions to a shared target - as in political cam¬ 
paigns - elicit high consensus across people and high consistency over 


Never trust a politician? 


101 


time. Because emotions also regulate moral and prosocial behavior, they 
are arguably adaptive, at least sometimes. According to Bou Zeineddine 
and Pratto (this volume), mistrust in powerful others, particularly those 
who constrain others’ options and means of attaining and maintaining 
well-being, or who use their power to harm other people, can be adaptive. 

On the plus side, emotions seem to promote social and moral behavior 
in organizations as well. For example, feeling good at work increases 
participation and organizational citizenship (George and Brief, 1992). 
Political engagement likewise entails not only political expertise but also 
participation and strong feelings (Miller, 2011). The role of emotion in 
political decision-making is even broader, of course (Westen, 2007). 

To be sure, individuals differ in how much they respond affectively 
versus cognitively (Huskinson and Haddock, 2004). Attitudes, as well 
as person impressions, also vary in their affective versus cognitive basis, 
accordingly being open to persuasion by that respective route (Edwards, 
1990; Edwards and von Hippel, 1995). Transitory campaign contexts 
(e.g., balloons) but also candidates themselves vary in their ability to sig¬ 
nal emotions (Isbell and Ottati, 2002). President Reagan was a master at 
sending emotions and evoking these emotions in his audience (McHugo, 
Lanzetta, Sullivan et aL, 1985). Voters’ individual expertise and motiva¬ 
tion moderate how readily they respond to these emotional cues (Isbell 
and Wyer, 1999; Ottati and Isbell, 1996). So accessible affect admittedly 
varies across voters, candidates, and issues. 


Recap 

If politicians as a group are distrusted, evoking resentment and anger, 
sometimes contempt and sometimes envy, then overcoming those nega¬ 
tive emotions must concern any political candidate who wants to become 
a political leader. We suggest that because politicians apparently pursue 
their own interests, not “we the people’s,” the voters view them as typi¬ 
cally competitive, exploitative, and therefore untrustworthy. 

Our analyses fit some others here: Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers, 
and Scholl (this volume) argue that power provides an opportunity to 
reach one’s own goals. In their chapter they address the question “What 
is the role of the construal of power as opportunity and responsibility 
in the striving for power?” Andeweg (this volume) holds that distrust is 
high in almost every country where it was measured. However, Smith and 
Overbeck (this volume) propose that, contrary to popular belief, people 
assume the best of powerful individuals: Power holders are seen as more 
moral than the powerless. Ours and related hypotheses suggest research 
yet to be done. 


102 


Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante 


Relational accountability 

We know what politicians want: By definition, as a job requirement, they 
want power, control over resources to advance their goals. To get there, 
they have to persuade us, the voters, at least temporarily, that they share 
our goals. They seem to know that the middle class are society’s ideal, 
so they often claim those values. They typically avoid advocating support 
for people without a fixed address, who are resented and do not vote 
(homeless people, undocumented immigrants, drug addicts), and they 
typically avoid advocating support for people with too many addresses, 
who are also resented (rich people, outsider entrepreneurs). 

The problem for us as voters is that we know the politicians’ goal is 
to win our vote by appearing to be trustworthy and on our side, but 
once they have what they want (our vote), they may leave us. In close- 
relationship terms, one might see this strategy as seduce-and-abandon. 
In a confidence game, it would be scam-and-scram. Even if we assume 
for a moment that they do genuinely share our goals, how do they show 
this, given that other candidates pretend the same? Trustworthiness is 
difficult to prove, as it requires unwavering loyalty over time, with even 
one betrayal destroying trust. 

What is needed is political trust stemming from relational accountabil¬ 
ity, specific political leaders demonstrating specific loyalty to us and cred¬ 
ibly explaining their lapses. One way politicians can win trust is exactly 
by demonstrating consistency over time to their constituents. Indeed, 
we trust our own specific, local representatives more than politicians 
in general (Sears, 1983, Studies 8-11, Table 4). We know more about 
them, perhaps having more face-to-face interactions. Certainly, we know 
their faces, backgrounds, and personalities better than we do the generic 
politician. This gives us (and the particular politicians) the opportunity 
to moderate our extreme distrust of them. 

The principle of worthy intentions fits other political/social entities. For 
example, corporations are treated as intentional agents with self-serving 
or public-serving goals (Kervyn, Fiske, and Malone, 2012). They win or 
lose customer loyalty accordingly. Sellers, beware! 


Conclusion 

Our take on the problem of politicians, power, and paranoia is to argue 
that in their competition for power, politicians forfeit voters’ trust. Voters 
are not paranoid to distrust politicians, once one analyzes the respective 
goals of politicians and voters. What is more, we are at their mercy 
more than they at ours; the dependence is asymmetrical. In equal-power 


Never trust a politician? 


103 


relationships, trust is adaptive, but in asymmetrical ones, especially those 
with such high stakes for the common welfare, trust must be earned. Our 
collective good sense tells us not to trust them until proven not guilty. 


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7 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit 
of popular empowerment 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 

Most people in the world today can expect to eat better, learn more, 
and live longer than any of their known ancestors. Yet, for many, espe¬ 
cially for members of disadvantaged groups and states, trust in domestic 
political leadership and institutions is low. This irony - that greater mate¬ 
rial empowerment is accompanied by greater distrust - can be explained 
by a nuanced understanding of power, the psychology of trust, and the 
sociopolitical dynamics of contemporary societies. 

This chapter describes the social psychology of people’s power situ¬ 
ations and of their responses to those situations, specifically in relation 
to standards for, and orientations towards, governments. In doing so, 
we use a different theoretical conception of power than other scholars 
often use. In particular, we insist that dominance and outcome con¬ 
trol - or power over - are insufficient conceptions of power because they 
disregard both relational and material resources that are supplementary 
to whatever influence an agent wields over another. Further, framing 
power simply as power over another neglects the needs, motivations, and 
agency of those in lower-power situations or positions. Instead, we argue 
that the relations of people with their social ecology are fundamentally 
entangled in the concept of power, which we view as the combination 
of the psychological, relational, and material affordances and constraints 
that characterize people’s lives. And if power is the set of affordances and 
constraints a social agent’s existence is shaped by, then trust is one impor¬ 
tant gauge of the balance of affordances and constraints for a social agent 
versus another’s in the context of their direct and indirect social inter¬ 
actions. Because people do engage in social comparison processes and 
learn vicariously about who is trustworthy, several social-psychological 
processes inform how trust or distrust is produced. 

We explicate these ideas as follows. First, we offer our reconsideration 
of power and trust, and say how our theoretical perspective pertains to 


We would like to acknowledge the valuable input of the editors and the following colleagues 
on an earlier draft of this chapter: Joseph de Rivera, Jessica LaCroix, I-Ching Lee, James H. 
Liu, Davide Morselli, Pippa Norris, Andrew L. Stewart, and Johanna R. Vollhardt. This 
research is based in part on the master’s thesis of the first author. 


106 



Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 


107 


political distrust in particular. We explain why we expect political distrust 
to be higher among people in disadvantaged situations compared to their 
past and to people in advantaged situations, particularly those histori¬ 
cally advantaged. Second, we argue that objective empowerment across 
groups and countries leads to changes in political cultures and aspira¬ 
tions. This then begets political distrust, which in turn catalyzes both 
resistance among the disadvantaged and reform among the advantaged. 
Third, we show how these changes vary in their magnitude and effects, 
in accordance with the institutional and elite behavioral constraints and 
norms prevalent across different kinds of government. Finally, we dis¬ 
cuss what political distrust means for popular empowerment and the 
democratic ideal, and offer suggestions regarding further research and 
theory. 

Our analysis of power begins simply with the recognition that all peo¬ 
ple have survival needs. To take action to meet survival needs, people 
must sense what they need, and what the environment affords, based on 
both past and present experiences and situations. They must rely on the 
aspects of the environment within their reach, as well as on their own 
capabilities, to get what they need to live. Power and trust both have 
fundamentally to do with these processes. 

Complexities enter our analysis when we recognize that environments 
afford the meeting of needs differentially to different persons and groups. 
Confronted with needs and with inequality in the ease of meeting needs, 
people try not only to meet their needs but also to adapt to or change 
their social, economic, and political environment so that they can do so. 
Thus, power and trust relations are dynamic. 

Power-basis theory defines power as the potential that social agents 
have to fulfill their basic needs and to enable or obstruct the fulfillment 
of others’ needs (Pratto, Lee, Tan et al., 2011). In other words, the ease 
with which the agent’s needs can be met or that others’ need fulfillment 
can be influenced, stemming jointly from the local environment and 
one’s capacities, indicates how empowered the agent is. This conception 
of power focuses on empowerment and disempowerment as fluid in time, 
rather than as power over another. This definition of empowerment does 
not mean activation of effective self-striving or of devolution or distribu¬ 
tion of influence only, but also incorporates the empowerment inherent 
in authoritarian benevolence and material provenance because power is 
due to the relation of need to social ecology. 

Different kinds of power address different specific survival needs. As 
such, our conception of power includes material resources such as wealth 
and control over force, and relational utilities such as social belonging 
and legitimacy. Indeed, power-basis theory holds that these kinds of 


108 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


power are interlinked and fungible (Pratto et al., 2011). For example, 
wealth, a “material” resource, is an important determinant of social and 
political status and influence (e.g.. Gill and Law, 1993). And contrary 
to the assumption that certain needs are less survival oriented and thus 
less basic in the hierarchy of needs, the relationship is reciprocal. As a 
case in point, and consistent with our social-ecological analysis, social 
and political status can facilitate or hinder accumulations of wealth (e.g., 
Lucero, 2008). Through this lens, one can see that material and relational 
types of power are strictly entangled, with both serving both biological 
imperatives and higher-purpose goals. After all, people must access both 
material and relational resources through other people. Human beings 
are not self-sustaining, self-fertilizing producer organisms like the plants. 
We humans are consumers and social animals, and, as such, the social 
properties and positions of human agents are just as fundamental to 
meeting survival needs as the availability of resources is (e.g., Lemieux 
and Pratto, 2003). In fact, in locations where material abundance is 
highest, there is often the most necessity for relational types of power, as 
many victims of colonization and exploitation could testify. 

Trust is the gauge of how much another agent will not obstruct, or 
will facilitate or enable one’s needs to be met, or has done so in the 
past; distrust indicates that the other will hinder or prevent need fulfill¬ 
ment or increase neediness. In other words, trust/distrust is an integrative 
evaluation of the agent’s needs, the environment’s affordances of those 
needs, and the combination of the power and benevolence of other social 
agents. We would like to emphasize the integrative part of this defini¬ 
tion. Power asymmetry between agents alone is an insufficient basis for 
distrust. Power asymmetry that does not affect salient need-fulfillment 
efforts, or that is used or perceived benevolently for instrumental or 
normative reasons, may not affect or may even increase political trust 
(e.g., in South Korea; Liu and Liu, 2003). 

Accuracy in (dis)trust is especially important for those low in power 
because their limited means imply that they may lack the surplus that 
would prevent a disaster from resulting should they misjudge where to 
invest their energies, time, and hopes. As such, trust in others is sensi¬ 
tive to vulnerability and uncertainty (e.g., Rousseau, Sitkin, Burt et al ., 
1998). Vulnerability, or the degree of difficulty in meeting one’s needs, 
depends partly on one’s environment. One’s sense of vulnerability to 
others stems from the interaction between interdependence and three 
types of social risk: risk of noncooperation loss (overcautiousness), risk 
of standing inequality, or risk of betrayal (Hong and Bohnet, 2007). One 
who is dependent is more vulnerable if he or she could be excluded from 
cooperative arrangements, lives in an unequal environment, or could 
be betrayed. Dependency is one expression of power asymmetry; power 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 


109 


being fungible, those who are needy in one way may be more likely to be 
needy in many ways, and thus would be expected to be more dependent 
on others. Power asymmetry also introduces uncertainty, and in extreme 
cases asymmetry makes trust impossible (Farrell, 2004). Dependency 
and uncertainty can characterize interpersonal power asymmetry, but 
they are also nested in the group position in an intergroup power envi¬ 
ronment. Disadvantaged people and groups are more dependent, and 
thus more vulnerable. They are also more uncertain of the credibility of 
powerful agents’ commitments. Both vulnerability and uncertainty thus 
make it less likely for disadvantaged people and groups to trust such 
agents, as we shall show. 

Malevolent power asymmetries produce greater distrust among disad¬ 
vantaged people in other ways. First, more powerful people have more 
opportunity to disempower others by excluding them from cooperative 
arrangements, by maintaining or increasing inequality or hierarchy, and 
by betrayal. Such actions are likely to be interpreted as hostile to the 
disadvantaged. Thus, disadvantaged people have both objective and sub¬ 
jective vulnerability. Second, the potential for the use of power asym¬ 
metry to empower or disempower others gives trust a moral character. 
Hence, trust is influenced by perceived beneficence or morality (Baner- 
jee, Bowie, and Pavone, 2006). Research has shown that in asymmetrical 
relationships, low social status, a concomitant of low power and an effect 
of past disempowerment, makes attributions of benevolent intentions, 
and consequently trust, less likely (Lount and Pettit, 2011). However, 
this may not be the case in situations where the benevolence of authority 
is normatively assumed or expected (e.g., Liu and Liu, 2003). Third, 
in some political-cultural milieux, power distance can curtail familiarity, 
identification, and emotional linkage between trustor and trustee (Lewis 
and Weigert, 1985) - factors that inform trustors’ perceptions of and 
expectations of the risk and uncertainty in trustees’ motivations. Finally, 
trust is contingent on empowerment for both the advantaged and disad¬ 
vantaged, but control over power is more internal for the advantaged. For 
the disadvantaged, trust is more contingent on the motivations, actions, 
and expectations of others and hence more uncertain. In multiple ways, 
then, without benevolent authorities, power asymmetry undermines trust 
in authority for the disadvantaged. 


Political distrust 

We now address trust in asymmetric power relations between the citizens 
and ruling political elites of managed democracies. Note that our defini¬ 
tion of democracy is different from either the “shallow” definition as a 


110 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


system of electoral selection of rulers (managers), or the “deep” defini¬ 
tion, which is more often used in democratization literature, as electoral 
systems with certain levels of guaranteed freedoms or rights (e.g., Norris, 
2011). In our view, the vast majority of contemporary governments are 
variants of managerial democratic systems. We consider them democratic 
because these governments are, to varying degrees, sensitive and respon¬ 
sive to citizens’ needs and demands, in whatever form those demands 
may be expressed (elections, protests, petitions, online activism, etc.). 
In this sense, democracy is not a form of government, but a gradient 
of sensitivity to popular influence and voice. In our view, constituents 
are able to exercise at least some influence in all but the most oppres¬ 
sive of countries (e.g., Saudi Arabia, an absolute monarchy, reformed 
its morality police, the mutawwa, in response to public outcry). Modern 
governments are managerial as well as democratic. That is, in none of 
the internationally recognized states do the people actually participate 
directly in the legislation and execution of daily governance. Rather, they 
provide input on the selection or policies of the managers. 

This specification of modern governments as managed democracies is 
important because it allows one to see that, under them, nonelite cit¬ 
izens have little alternative but implicitly or explicitly to accede some 
power, and authorities retain the ability to act in ways that are contrary 
to citizens’ interests. Self-interest therefore obliges citizens to evaluate 
authorities’ trustworthiness according to how well their political man¬ 
agers share their ideals and can and do enact them. As we will discuss 
later, there are many cases in which these managers fail to uphold this 
basis for trust. Simply trusting institutional constraints such as laws to 
induce authorities to provide desired treatment and outcomes may be 
insufficient (Pettit, 1998). Public-choice theory has made such points 
repeatedly and convincingly in the field of political economy (for an 
overview, see Buchanan, 2003). 

We define political (dis)trust as constituents’ sense of how much gov¬ 
ernments serve to fulfill (or deny them) the needs those agencies are 
expected to enable. In other words, people’s political trust or distrust 
stems from perceptions of the degree to which political agencies will 
empower or disempower them. Given our conception of power as the 
joint consequence of people’s capacities and their environments, govern¬ 
ments and political elites may disempower people by preventing them 
from accessing, developing, or using their own capacities or the capaci¬ 
ties of the state, as by disrupting community-building or curtailing access 
to resources, security, or other necessities. Political trust is thus at least in 
part a function of the degree of power asymmetry between constituents 
and elites, and the historical trajectory of that power asymmetry. That 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 


111 


is, the amount of political trust constituents have depends on their past 
experience, present perception, and future expectation that governments 
reliably use their superior power competently and faithfully to empower 
their constituents, even when opportunity and incentive exist for author¬ 
ities to do otherwise (see also Rai and Fiske, 2011). 

Obviously, disadvantaged people and groups face greater power asym¬ 
metry vis-a-vis domestic and foreign governments than do privileged 
people or groups. In addition, insofar as disadvantaged people see their 
disadvantage as a failure of government or other dominant agents to 
empower them or as deliberate disempowerment, they are less likely to 
expect benevolent treatment, and may interpret it with suspicion if it 
does occur. This has been a factor, for example, in the failure of many 
development programs (Banerjee and Duflo, 2011). 

We now explore how power dynamics can produce popular distrust in 
governments, especially among the disadvantaged. We assume, based on 
previous findings regarding the similarity of intra- and intergroup hier¬ 
archies, and their interlinkage, that the processes we describe will apply 
to both subordinate groups within states and to interstate relationships 
within the global hierarchy (e.g., Pratto, Sidanius, Bou Zeineddine et al., 
2013; Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). 

In support of our theoretical reasoning, we present evidence that 
although inequality is increasing in some circumstances, the entire power 
hierarchy has shifted upwards, such that even many subordinated groups 
are sufficiently empowered, in absolute terms, to advocate a converging 
ideal of empowering participatory governance in ways they previously 
could not. We then assess how well governments meet this heightened 
popular standard. We conclude that the combination of the empower¬ 
ment of the lower rungs of many states’ social hierarchies and the nor¬ 
malization of the ideals of empowerment by government, and the overall 
failure of governments to meet this demand, produce a measure of dis¬ 
trust in authority, particularly among the disadvantaged. Disadvantaged 
people and groups, given their current and past experiences, may have 
very good reasons to distrust authority. It would be a mistake to pathol- 
ogize distrust without taking such considerations into account. What the 
effects of this distrust are on democracy and social progress overall is a 
more difficult question than one might expect. 


Putting people, government, and political distrust 
in context 

Conditions for today’s citizens differ from the past in several ways all 
over the world. First, economic conditions have improved for very many 


112 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


people across the world. Since the 1970s and 1980s, $2/day poverty rates 
have plummeted from 44% to 18% (Sala-i-Martin, 2002). Economies 
are much less agricultural on average, and occupational specialization 
is increasing (Inglehart, 1997). Females increasingly acquire paid labor, 
concomitant with attitudinal shifts towards gender equity the world over 
(Seguino, 2007). Second, primary and secondary education levels have 
risen and gender gaps are closing (Bloom, 2006). Higher education is 
also increasing, particularly in poor, developing countries experiencing 
economic growth (British Council, 2012). Third, communications are 
more open and available (Norris and Inglehart, 2009). Fourth, both 
interstate and intrastate violence has fallen substantially in the past 20 
years (Institute for Economics and Peace, 2012). Fifth, over the past 
40 years there has been a positive trend in the levels of political rights 
and in the number of countries electing their governments. For example, 
Freedom House (2012) reports that from 1989 to 2012, the percentage 
of countries that can be classified as electoral democracies has increased 
from 41 % to 60%, and the percentage of countries categorized as “partly 
free” or “free” by their political rights and civil liberties index has risen 
from 54% to 76% since 1972. 

This rosy picture does not apply equally to all countries or to all sub¬ 
groups within countries, whether developed or developing. Within-nation 
wealth inequalities have remained stable or increased (Sala-i-Martin, 
2002). Female economic empowerment and gender equity norms vary 
by region and country (Seguino, 2007) . Education levels are stagnant or 
declining in a few regions, countries, and subgroups, and gender gaps 
remain larger in these locations than elsewhere (e.g., sub-Saharan Africa; 
Bloom, 2006). Cosmopolitan communications are not uniformly avail¬ 
able across states or groups (Norris and Inglehart, 2009). Peace and 
liberties are likewise lacking in particular “hotspots” and for particular 
groups (Institute for Economics and Peace, 2012). 

Nonetheless, in the majority of states, hierarchies have shifted en bloc 
upward - many of the world’s citizens are better off than they used to be. 
This has the most profound impacts on the most disempowered people 
and groups. For example, small differences in absolute levels of average 
wealth and economic development among the poorest states and people 
are associated with the strongest effects on the fulfillment of basic needs 
such as food, water, and health, as well as on overall quality of life, literacy, 
higher education, gender gaps in education, and subjective well-being 
(e.g., Diener and Diener, 1995). These effects are mediated by increased 
perception of freedom of choice, and supplemented by democratization 
and social liberalization (Inglehart, Foa, Peterson et ai, 2008). Civil and 
political rights gains have been driven by the tremendous strides taken 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 113 

by historically disempowered groups within states, and internationally by 
states released from the bondage of colonialism or imperialism. Security 
gains have been largest among those states which suffered most from 
violence (e.g., sub-Saharan Africa; Institute for Economics and Peace, 
2012). More open communications increase government transparency, 
providing to citizens, especially those distant from the centers of political 
power, the power of greater knowledge. 

This empowering (partial) release from “survival mode” for many of 
the most disempowered brings their psychological reality closer to that 
of more powerful people (e.g., Magee and Galinsky, 2008). Their moti¬ 
vations and reference standards are converging on improving quality of 
life rather than avoiding existential insecurity (see also Inglehart, 1997), 
despite persistent inequality. 1 Indeed, conditions are increasingly ripe for 
intergroup relative deprivation (similar reference standards but unequal 
standards of living; e.g., for race: Major, 1994; for class: Brockmann, 
Delhey, Welzel et al., 2008; for a review on relative deprivation, see 
Smith, Pettigrew, Pippin et al., 2011). Moreover, as the emancipative 
ideals of freedom and equality spread across and within states (e.g., 
Welzel, 2007), hierarchy-legitimizing ideologies and attitudes (such as 
the possibility that innate superiority or exceptionalism applies to cer¬ 
tain groups) are undermined in the minds of the disempowered. If all 
humans deserve certain opportunities and freedoms from government, 
then the absence of these powers is no longer ideologically justifiable. 
This trifecta of (1) disadvantaged groups’ reference standards converging 
towards those of the privileged, (2) the continuation of wide discrepancies 
in whose needs are met, and (3) the replacement of dominant ideologies 
with emancipative ones (e.g., Inglehart and Welzel, 2005), is the perfect 
recipe for the delegitimization of agents, structures, and ideologies that 
perpetuate intergroup power hierarchies (Major, 1994). 

Indeed, research suggests that increases in citizens’ perceptions and 
feelings of power, and of political systems’ potential openness, freedom, 
and changeability, may increase reactance (Laurin, Kay, and Fitzsimons, 
2012), decrease system justification (Martorana, Galinsky, and Rao, 
2005), and trigger system-change motivations and cognitive orienta¬ 
tions (Johnson and Fujita, 2012). These effects are more likely to be 

1 This does not necessarily indicate that the disadvantaged have moved entirely from 
a prevention to a promotion self-regulation focus (Higgins, 1997), or from an avoid¬ 
ance to an approach orientation (Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Anderson, 2003). Rather, 
it indicates sufficient empowerment to allow only a partial reorientation towards self¬ 
promotion/approach. Disadvantaged groups’ conditions are often transitional, and their 
orientations may reflect an increasingly even equilibrium between security/survival and 
broader emancipatory well-being concerns. 


114 


Fonad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


associated with distrust than with trust of political systems. In fact, 
according to the human development and empowerment models (e.g., 
Welzel and Inglehart, 2008), political cultures that prioritize emancipa¬ 
tive values (i.e., people power or democratization, tolerance of noncon¬ 
formists or social liberalization, and generalized trust in other people or 
social trust) are more likely to be critical (and express criticism) of gov¬ 
ernments and engage in transformative mass actions. Rising economic 
development has facilitated the increasingly critical, reformist orienta¬ 
tions towards governments by empowering citizens’ capacity for freedom 
of choice and social responsibility. According to these models, economic 
growth and other changes, such as higher education, more open com¬ 
munications, and increased social complexity, have also fostered eman¬ 
cipative and egalitarian values and excited citizens’ orientation towards 
freedom and egalitarianism. Consequently, people are more frequently 
holding elites accountable, helping to further institutionalize governmen¬ 
tal integrity and responsiveness to popular demands, and to promote 
guarantees of freedom and social responsibility. In other words, pub¬ 
lic empowerment increases the capacity for and attention to popular 
demands for more public empowerment and governmental responsive¬ 
ness to such demands. When governments are laggard in providing, or 
actively thwart, this empowered aspiration for further empowerment, dis¬ 
trust of government may result and function as a goad and constraint to 
these governments. 

Those who perceive emancipative values as individualist might assume 
that, in collectivist governmental systems relying on norms of the benev¬ 
olence of authority rather than those of power dispersion and plurality 
(e.g., some East Asian systems), distrust may not play such a role (e.g., 
Liu and Liu, 2003) . However, we would argue that the higher concern of 
governments in such systems to avoid criticism and maintain social har¬ 
mony (Liu and Liu, 2003) makes even the potential for popular distrust of 
government a strong effect of and potentiator of popular empowerment. 
For example, in China, the state recognizes that the country’s economic 
development is at a “critical” ($1,000-3,000 GDP per capita) juncture, 
where people are beginning to move beyond basic survival concerns. 
And so the government has accepted (within somewhat narrow bounds, 
to be sure) the inevitability of popular discontent at this stage, while 
simultaneously initiating efforts to ensure that this discontent is not 
manifested in corrosion of the benevolent paternal image of the state, in 
distrust of and delegitimization (and destabilization) of the regime itself, 
through reforms aimed at those problems most likely to delegitimize and 
destabilize - inequality and corruption (e.g., Yang, 2006). 

Our assertion that the various forms of popular empowerment 
can lead to increased criticism and distrust of government may be 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 115 

counterintuitive. To understand this apparent irony, it helps to discuss 
the situation of people who are strongly versus only weakly subordinated. 
In the most oppressed and powerless communities, authorities can seem 
so powerful, so immutable, so awe-inspiring or terrifying, as to be almost 
superhuman in the images they project of themselves (e.g., Glassman, 
1975; Merriam, 1938; Weber, 1947, pp. 358-60). The people in some 
of these oppressive environments may be given the right to select (or 
rubber-stamp) their rulers, but never to resist or disobey or often even 
criticize or escape them - for example, pre-seventeenth-century England 
(Burgess, 1992); pre-2011 Syria (Wedeen, 1999); contemporary North 
Korea). Regarding people’s orientations towards these “divine,” “semidi¬ 
vine,” or sacrosanct rulers, we would assert that there could never be 
popular trust or distrust - only faith, terror, or irrelevance to the lives of 
the “peasantry” they rule. Political discontent then takes, or is given, the 
flavor not of functional distrust, but of dysfunctional apostasy. And that 
is precisely because in such exclusionary and oppressive systems, poli¬ 
tics, authority, and the state are placed above and beyond the populace 
(Lewin, 1943), both symbolically and practically in terms of influence 
and responsibility, and normatively through establishment of faith- or 
terror-based legitimizing myths. One usually does not speak of trust 
or distrust in dealing with forces of nature or agents beyond control or 
reason. 

In politics, as in other asymmetric social relationships, relationships of 
trust or even distrust (as opposed to a relationship of faith, obedience, 
adjustment, or fear) can only exist when participants mutually assume 
they have a reciprocally participatory relationship, where both trustor 
and trustee have responsibilities or obligations towards each other, and, 
more importantly, have at least some influence over each other (e.g., 
Farrell, 2004). This may also apply to perceptions of (in)justice and 
(il)legitimacy, which are closely linked to (dis)trust (e.g., Tyler, 2003). 
To speak of trust or system justification towards government in extremely 
oppressive or deprived conditions (e.g., Henry and Saul, 2006; Jost, Pel¬ 
ham, Sheldon etai, 2003) misses the functional irrelevancy to the people of 
these attitudes in such circumstances. Trust in local communities or sub¬ 
groups is a much more relevant and important factor, functionally and 
realistically, for people in these conditions (e.g., Scott, 1977). Further, 
interpreting oppressed people’s trust or system justification as authentic 
overlooks the likelihood that expressions of trust or system justification 
under oppressive circumstances are unlikely to be a free, deliberate, and 
empowered choice in judgment, but rather a result of powerful propa¬ 
ganda, other forms of state manipulation or incapacitation of the peo¬ 
ple’s ability to judge (e.g., censorship of cosmopolitan communications, 
isolationism, economic and educational deprivation, agenda-setting, 


116 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


scapegoating), or a habitual survival technique due to the inherent danger 
in criticizing oppressive governments (e.g., Norris, 2011). 

As oppression lessens, authentic (i.e., relatively free, deliberative, and 
functional) direct and indirect political expression and participation 
increase. Politics and state become a humanized inclusive value domain 
rather than the superhuman domain of times past (e.g., Lewin, 1943 ). 
The more a populace has the discretion as well as the resources to 
be included (or establish their inclusion) in the processes of political 
decision-making, and the more fundamental its role or influence in 
that process, (1) the more relevant and important it is to citizens to 
make accurate judgments as to whether to trust, justify, or legitimize 
the political system and the authorities that manage it, (2) the higher 
the bar they set for making these judgments (for a similar theoretical 
approach that makes this connection between power, rising expecta¬ 
tions, and breakdown of government-constituent relations, see Chandra 
and Foster, 2005; Davies, 1979 ), (3) the freer they are to express these 
judgments, and (4) the more their political culture emphasizes making 
such judgments and acting on them. And it seems that as the world’s 
publics find themselves more and more in this position, they are finding 
and expressing that they do not like what they see. 


The conditions of disadvantage 

Our theorizing posits that political trust hinges on how empowering or 
disempowering both the social ecology and the government within are, 
and whether they are (equally) so for all groups. We now focus on how 
well empowerment concerns are realized for disadvantaged states and 
groups, how this influences emancipative values, and how this affects 
political trust. 

Many developing countries’ economies have grown - several at aston¬ 
ishingly high rates - over the past decades. Consequently, these states’ 
people increasingly emphasize democratization values (Welzel and Ingle- 
hart, 2008). Across the globe, nearly uniformly, people endorse democ¬ 
ratization values, with very similar prioritization of civil liberties, free and 
fair elections, and more participatory approaches to the political process 
(e.g., legislation by referenda), regardless of world region or historical 
experience of democracy (Norris, 2011). In fact, the data show that there 
is now wider support for enacting laws by referenda among citizens in 
Africa and Eastern Europe than there is in North America, Scandinavia, 
or Western Europe (see Norris, 2011). However, substantial discrepan¬ 
cies between developing and developed states persist on economic and 
political empowerment; subsequently, people in the developing world still 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 117 

show lower support of and consensus on the social trust and social liber¬ 
alization dimensions of emancipative values (e.g., Norris, 2011; Welzel 
and Inglehart, 2008). 

The economic and political empowerment experienced by many devel¬ 
oping states emboldens subordinated groups to express populist eman¬ 
cipative values as well as collective grievances, but the insufficiency and 
inequity of this empowerment leads this expression to take the form of 
intergroup conflict (Schock, 1996). Violence and conflict restrict people’s 
boundaries of trust to their kin and in-group members (i.e., decreasing 
social trust: White, Kenrick, Li et al., 2012), and increase their author¬ 
itarianism (i.e., increasing emphasis on conformity; e.g., Duckitt and 
Fisher, 2003). Among more collectivist cultures (which tend at present to 
be situated in developing states or subordinated groups within developed 
states), threats to collective freedoms elicit more psychological reactance 
than do threats to individual freedoms (Jonas, Graupmann, Kayser et al., 
2009). When we put these findings together, it seems that political and 
economic empowerment may be facilitating the adoption and expression 
of populist emancipative values as well as collective emancipative and 
survival values, while the insufficiency or inequity of this empowerment 
may be hindering social trust and liberalization among disadvantaged 
groups. 

Recall that our argument is that political distrust is often high because 
popular standards for governance, based in empowerment of eman¬ 
cipative values, have risen. Unfortunately, the empirical data to test 
this idea are not ideal, but some are consistent with the hypothe¬ 
sis. Uncritical respect for and deference to authority among citizens 
has been shown to be negatively related to some emancipative values 
(Inglehart, 1997; Welzel, 2007). Institutional trust is negatively related 
to freedom-associated Schwartz values, particularly self-direction, with 
both country-level socioeconomic and governance indices included in the 
model (Morselli, Spini, and Devos, 2012), and empowerment, emanci¬ 
pative values, and political distrust covary over time in the expected 
directions (Welzel and Inglehart, 2008). 

Our theoretical analysis also implies there should be differences 
between privileged and disadvantaged groups within states on eman¬ 
cipative values and trust in government. Unfortunately, extant studies 
fail to test such associations. However, research shows that some individ¬ 
ual and collective emancipative values, such as rejection of dominance 
and egalitarianism (Lee, Pratto, and Johnson, 2011), participatory pol¬ 
itics (Norris, 2011), and social responsibility (e.g., Bobo, 1991), are 
higher among disadvantaged groups. Distrust of government also seems 
to be more prevalent among more disadvantaged groups (Catterberg and 


118 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


Moreno, 2006; Hudson, 2006; Mishler and Rose, 2001; Norris, 2011). 
But the level of distrust of government among the people of different 
states and subgroups depends not only on political culture and the his¬ 
torical trajectory of government-constituent relationships but also on 
the extent to which governments are perceived to be empowering in the 
present, which has much to do with the shape of existing institutional 
structures and performance. 


The failures of institutional structures and 
political elites 

For all managed democracies, governments prioritize how institutional 
structures serve three functions: development, distribution (e.g., institu¬ 
tionalization of legislative and economic equality and procedural democ¬ 
racy), and policing (Neumann and Sending, 2010; Weiss, 1998). To con¬ 
sider whether institutional structures match their people’s aspirations, it 
is instructive to compare clusters of governments that differ on these 
priorities. However, we acknowledge that states can vary in the ways and 
extent to which they adopt and apply these priorities, both between each 
other and over time (e.g., Walby, 2009). Thus, the following analysis 
makes inferences about archetypes rather than assuming that all states 
which can be classified in each cluster operate in the same ways or to the 
same extent as we describe. 

Liberal states are more concerned with the politics of distribution 
than with the politics of development (Weiss, 1998). These states can 
be divided into two categories according to their ideological position on 
and procedural implementation of the politics of distribution: neolib¬ 
eral, or uncoordinated “free-market” states (e.g., the USA), and social 
democratic states (e.g., Sweden; Walby, 2009). 

In neoliberal states, market effectiveness is the primary principle guid¬ 
ing political policy and action. Such systems tend to be individualistic, 
competitive, and acquisitive. Given the prioritization of nonintervention 
over nondomination, neoliberal states enforce the “personalization” of 
trust or distrust more than in social democratic states, where vulnerabil¬ 
ity and uncertainty may be more attenuated due to wider institutional 
guarantees (Pettit, 1998). Several studies in wealthy neoliberal states 
have shown that economic individualism is fundamentally hegemonic 
and counter-democratic, denying social responsibility in government for 
all citizens; rising inequality and intergroup discrimination character¬ 
ize these states (e.g., Walby, 2009). Furthermore, these states privilege 
exchange norms over reciprocity norms, potentially producing problems 
for reciprocal institutions such as social security or consumer-protection 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 119 

bureaus (Braithwaite, 1998). For disadvantaged groups, the history of 
formal exchange that excluded them as reciprocal partners gives them 
few alternatives but to distrust (e.g., Molm, Whitham, and Melamed, 

2012 ). 

In neoliberal institutional environments, elites often value power, mas¬ 
culine domination, competitive success, and acquisition - for themselves 
as individuals and subgroups and for their states (Ruppert, 2000) . The 
experimental games Dictator and Ultimatum provide an analogous situ¬ 
ation, as these games’ goals and rules (not necessarily in participants’ 
choices) prioritize competitiveness and acquisitiveness. In environments 
emphasizing these priorities, research shows that the powerful tend to 
be proud, strategically motivated, less honest, economically egocentric, 
dominating, prejudiced, less concerned with social responsibility, and 
less empathic with others compared to the less powerful (e.g., Chancel¬ 
lor and Lyubomirsky, 2013; Handgraaf et al., 2008; Hilbig and Zettler, 
2009). When power holders are less constrained through the availabil¬ 
ity of plausible deniability mechanisms, they are even more likely to 
exhibit such tendencies (Dana, Weber, and Kuang, 2007). However, 
akin to social democracies, in experimental games with rules emphasiz¬ 
ing reciprocity, power holders do not display many of these tenden¬ 
cies even when establishing plausible deniability is possible (van der 
Weele, Kulisa, Kosfeld et al., 2010; see also Lammers and van Beest; 
Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers, and Scholl; and Stamkou and Van 
Kleef, this volume, on political elites). A pair of studies have addressed 
the question of the interaction between power position and normative 
environment on sociopolitical attitudes more directly. De Oliveira, Gui- 
mond, and Dambrun (2012) showed that holding dominant power leads 
to justification and legitimization of inequality and the status quo pri¬ 
marily in hierarchy-enhancing (antiegalitarian) normative environments, 
as opposed to in hierarchy-attenuating (egalitarian) normative environ¬ 
ments. For example, the ideology of a government in power, as well 
as the structure of governance in a state, can influence the trust and 
well-being of disadvantaged groups directly through influence on govern¬ 
mental performance. Bjornskov (2008) finds evidence for this, showing 
that inequality decreases with growth when left-wing governments are in 
power, but increases with growth when right-wing governments are in 
power. 

Our analysis implies that distrust of and dissatisfaction with govern¬ 
ments should be greater in neoliberal than in social democratic states, 
given how vastly neoliberal states underrate their citizens’ aspirations for 
economic redistribution and civil and political rights (e.g., Norton and 
Ariely, 2011; Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). Differences between dominant 


120 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


and subordinate groups on egalitarianism and social responsibility are 
widest in such individualistic, liberal, and wealthy states (Lee et al ., 2011). 
Trust in and satisfaction with developed neoliberal governments are lower 
overall than in social democratic states (Norris, 2011). Likewise, in the 
USA, subordinated groups distrust government more than dominant 
groups due in part to higher concern for equality and social responsibility 
among subordinates (Bobo, 1991; Hong and Bohnet, 2007). 

Neoliberal forms of government have been at least partially adopted in 
much of the developing world (Agnew, 2009) .The problems associated 
with developed neoliberal governments are exacerbated in many devel¬ 
oping states by lingering existential levels of economic insecurity and 
conflict, as well as corruption, patronage, factionalization, and repres¬ 
sion of citizen demands for democratization and egalitarianism (e.g., 
Khan, 2005). Such problems make the ordinary functioning of regimes 
more complicated, less efficient, more discriminatory, and, in the end, 
more disempowering for both state and citizenry, particularly for disad¬ 
vantaged groups (Khan, 2005). Yet citizen demand for some dimensions 
of democratization and egalitarianism is high. The gap between such 
emancipative demands and their realization plants the seeds of political 
distrust. The grounds most fertile for these seeds are states that are not 
achieving growth or security - that is, those states failing to deliver on 
the existential survival needs and aspirations of their peoples as well as 
their emancipative needs and aspirations (e.g., Russia; Catterberg, and 
Moreno, 2006; Norris, 2011). Governments in those few developing 
states that do deliver on these existential aspirations, or that are strongly 
driven or constrained by norms of benevolence, social responsibility, and 
avoidance of shame, and are thus responsive to popular priorities and 
sentiment, can have remarkably high levels of satisfaction with and trust 
in political institutions - for example, Vietnam (Norris, 2011) and Tai¬ 
wan (Liu and Liu, 2003). 

Thus, for both developed and developing states, when citizens’ aspira¬ 
tions are met by the structure, goals, and performance of the government, 
citizens may trust and be satisfied with government. However, the more 
inequalities reflect different unmet needs among subgroups, the more a 
government leaves aspirations unfulfilled for some groups. In neoliberal 
states or states adopting some neoliberal forms, the absence of vetting 
and adjustment of laws to provide compensatory protections respecting 
diversity and equality (Ruhl and Ruhl, 1997), and the presence of insti¬ 
tutional discrimination (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999) produce inequalities 
in both outcomes and procedural fairness. 

In contrast, social democracies address inequality and group diversity 
through extensive state intervention, with the guiding assumption that 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 


121 


the state is the ward of all the people, and governance must be socially 
responsible (e.g., Walby, 2009). Citizens in these states have among the 
highest emphases on emancipative and egalitarian aspirations for their 
governments (Norris, 2011). Reflecting the match between state struc¬ 
ture and performance and citizens’ political culture, social democratic 
states have some of the highest levels of trust (as confidence) in and sat¬ 
isfaction with government in the world (Norris, 2011). However, social 
democratic structures must be backed by large amounts of wealth and 
high stability in order to provide social safety nets and respect for diver¬ 
sity (e.g., Weiss, 1998). This may make them more vulnerable to eco¬ 
nomic (Weiss, 1998) and demographic and political-cultural shocks (e.g., 
Denmark; Rydgren, 2004), as well as prevent less wealthy or stable states 
from relying on this model to satisfy their citizens. 

Overall, existing evidence shows that increased distrust of government 
results from stronger (empowered) political appetites for empowering, 
responsive governance, and the failure of governments to respond to this 
hunger. Disadvantaged groups’ dissatisfaction with government is espe¬ 
cially affected by the failure of government to enable their empowerment. 
Those dissatisfied with the way democracy works in their governments 
include supporters of losing political parties in electoral contests, peo¬ 
ple low on subjective well-being and life satisfaction, people with low 
incomes, and citizens of less economically developed, badly governed, 
and repressive states (Norris, 2011). To the extent that the past and 
the present inform disempowered people’s expectations, they would not 
expect benevolent treatment or outcomes from government. Given that 
the disempowered are increasingly more educated, better informed, and 
more predisposed to be critical of authority, we should not be surprised 
that they would recognize, learn, and act from distrust of authorities who 
chronically make little effort to recognize and respond to their needs and 
aspirations. 


Conclusions and future directions 

Given that democracy requires some consent of the governed, distrust in 
government can cause alarm. This need not be the only response to dis¬ 
trust. Political distrust can improve democracy by making politics more 
participatory, and making governments more accountable and responsive 
to their people - all their people (Pettit, 1998; Welzel, 2007). 

Despite this, political distrust among the disadvantaged, born of their 
rejection of inequality, their growing empowerment, and the normal¬ 
ization of openness (e.g., via increased political transparency and avail¬ 
ability of information) also means that dominant groups face increasing 


122 


Fonad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


challenges to their hegemony, possibly leading to domestic social polar¬ 
ization (Bjornskov, 2007). Such tension and polarization can also be 
seen internationally, as dominant and liberal states are increasingly scru¬ 
tinized and held accountable for their hypocritical support for condi¬ 
tions, statements, and actions that oppose the emancipative principles 
they purport to promote. Whether political distrust is a good thing for 
democracy depends on whether one considers the empowerment of the 
disadvantaged to be an essential goal of democracy, or whether puta¬ 
tive participation suffices. Equally, the effects of political distrust depend 
on the extent to which governments and dominant groups contest this 
empowerment of the disadvantaged. The more disputed the road to egal¬ 
itarian emancipation, the more likely it is for political cultures to regress 
from emancipative democratic ideals, and for dominance hierarchies to 
establish themselves all over again. 

Despite the evidence for our thesis, our review uncovered areas that 
require further research. First, the literature should move beyond treating 
nation states as either monoliths or collections of individuals to address 
the conditions of within-state subgroups’ political cultures, their orien¬ 
tations towards their governments, and the conflicts that may arise with 
increasing emancipation of the disadvantaged from the shackles of exis¬ 
tential insecurity. While we found some evidence to support our theo¬ 
rized feedback loop between distrust and empowerment for both citizens 
of disadvantaged states and members of disadvantaged groups within 
states, more research is needed to confirm the correspondence of this 
relationship between the two levels, and to ascertain what differences, if 
any, exist in the relationship between these two levels. 

Second, there is little empirical work on the influence of international 
governmental organizations and interstate relations (particularly inter¬ 
national conflict and intervention) on distrust of domestic governments, 
despite the rich literature on their relation to the trajectories of develop¬ 
ment, popular political cultures, and government-constituent relations. 

These two additional layers of complexity regarding development and 
political culture suggest that collective needs, aspirations, and emancipa¬ 
tive values should be considered alongside values of individual emancipa¬ 
tion, particularly notions such as social harmony and collective liberation. 
For example, perceived group victimhood can result from either hege¬ 
monic within-state or interstate histories and experiences of persecution 
or oppression. Rotella, Richeson, Chiao et al. (2013) show that such vic¬ 
timhood may have effects on whether popular trust resides in members 
of an exclusive in-group (e.g., conservative politicians) or in members of 
a superordinate group (e.g., national politicians). 

Third, much of the work on trust and system justification fails to 
ground these judgments in a theory of all that trust and distrust do for 


Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 123 

citizens in the context of neediness and disadvantage, as we have done 
here. Such a perspective would consider the balance of the material, rela¬ 
tional, and psychological costs and benefits of perceptions or expressions 
of (dis)trust or (un)fairness among constrained peoples. Such conditions 
are rarely addressed through surveys of or experiments on first-world 
citizens. 

Fourth, dominants may adopt insidious uses of even emancipative 
ideologies, through hypocrisy or plausible deniability (Aupers, 2012; Liu 
and Mills, 2006), to counter the empowerment of disadvantaged groups’ 
political cultures (e.g., Jackman, 1994). More subtle consideration of 
ideologies, beyond their oppressive or emancipative nature, according to 
the ways in which they are used, is essential for theories of social and 
political development. 

Finally, changes in the world prioritize research on the psychological 
and political consequences of political and social complexity. For exam¬ 
ple, from the perspective of constituents, what constitutes their social 
systems has become more masked (Giddens, 1991). Such ambiguity 
may lead to insecurities and self-doubt about what constitutes “real¬ 
ity” (Aupers, 2012). This may cause difficulties with political causal 
attributions and attributions about intentionality, capacity, and con¬ 
sistency, and the resultant uncertainty should increase distrust. Dis¬ 
advantaged groups especially may adapt by exhibiting higher attribu- 
tional complexity (Foels and Reid, 2010), which may attenuate the 
influence of individualist ideologies (Foels and Jassin, 2012) and ignite 
the collective self-perceptions and intergroup comparisons needed for 
them to perceive violations of entitlements (Major, 1994). Distrust may 
thus reduce social complexity by habituating action based on suspicion, 
monitoring, and demand for and activation of institutional safeguards 
(Lewis and Weigert, 1985). Research is needed to untangle the rela¬ 
tionships between power dynamics in social environments, the various 
forms of social and psychological complexity, and political trust and 
satisfaction. 

This chapter put forth a conceptual analysis of, and presented 
evidence for, the dynamics of asymmetries in political distrust. Citizens 
of developing states and subordinated citizens elsewhere increasingly 
emphasize emancipative and egalitarian values, but their governments 
often continue to fail to deliver these. A history of neglect, exclusion, 
hypocrisy, and contemporary vulnerability and uncertainty feed distrust. 
In our view, this is not symptomatic of any sort of pathological inca¬ 
pacitation (i.e., “paranoia”) among the disadvantaged. Political distrust 
among the disadvantaged, like their noncompliance with and opposition 
to the agents or abettors of their oppression and disadvantage, can 
be a manifestation of an unprecedented thimbleful of power gained, 


124 


Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto 


allowing them to move beyond the enforced day-to-day, to join the 
stream of history (Memmi, 1991) and become a greater part of that 
stream. 


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8 All power to our great leader: political 
leadership under uncertainty 


John J. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 


National leaders are widely viewed as powerful players on the world stage. 
They play the chess game of diplomacy, trade, and war and are forever 
etched into history for their roles in world affairs. But national leaders 
are also extremely important to the citizens they represent, because they 
provide a sense of national identity and stand for the collective values and 
purpose of a country. During times of uncertainty, be it international or 
domestic conflict, economic instability, or change of national identity, 
leaders may be particularly important because it is in these contexts 
that they are expected to provide clear direction and to help resolve 
uncertainty. Indeed, leadership in times of uncertainty often shapes a 
leader’s legacy. Leaders may lose their power or never come to power 
if there are any questions or doubts about their ability to weather such 
a storm. In times of great uncertainty, citizens often demand strong, 
directive leadership to manage the crisis and maintain the nation’s sense 
of identity, strength, and international status. 

Often, during uncertain times, citizens are willing to grant unprece¬ 
dented autonomy and power to leaders in an attempt to manage crises. In 
contemporary US history, there are several examples of citizens tolerat¬ 
ing, and even celebrating, seemingly extreme behavior by the leadership 
during times of uncertainty. For example, immediately following the 
September 11, 2001 terror attacks, the US Congress passed the Patriot 
Act, granting the government the power to monitor its citizens, an act 
that would have seemed unthinkable before the crisis occurred. During 
World War II, the US public supported the internment of thousands of 
US citizens of Japanese ancestry solely on the basis of their ethnicity. At 
the height of the Cold War, Senator Joseph McCarthy’s anticommunist 
witch hunt was entertained by the highest levels of government. 

Often these unprecedented submissions of power to authority are 
functional - that is, leader behavior effectively manages uncertain times 
and serves both leader and follower. When such power has temporary 
negative ramifications for followers, the power dynamics usually return 
to the previous, functional balance of power within the nation, with 


130 



Political leadership under uncertainty 


131 


concessions made to those harmed by leadership. In some cases, how¬ 
ever, nations abdicate enormous amounts of power to leaders who are 
highly directive, autocratic, and authoritative. Many times, this results in 
leaders wielding complete and often destructive power over their nation. 
Some of the best-documented examples of this type of destructive lead¬ 
ership are the authoritarian governments of the twentieth century. 

The history of modern social psychology is intractably linked with 
the analysis of authoritarian regimes of the twentieth century, particu¬ 
larly those regimes associated with World War II. Researchers have long 
sought to explain how masses of people are led to commit atrocities and 
support inhumane policies - the nasty outcomes of oppressive authori¬ 
tarianism. Fewer scientific inquiries investigate how authoritarian power 
is established. What seems particularly problematic is that quite often 
nations are willing, if not eager, to hand over great power to political 
leaders who, in turn, use that power to oppress their citizens. Often these 
leaders use portrayals of conflict and threat to engineer perceptions of an 
uncertain world where they (and their party) can offer solace, protection, 
and purpose in an effort to galvanize support from the masses. 

The mid-twentieth-century Soviet Union and Nazi Germany are well- 
known examples of popular governments turned authoritarian states. In 
1917, Russian workers and peasants embraced the overthrow of the czar 
and the ensuing Soviet seizure of power. Using socialist ideology, Joseph 
Stalin capitalized on the country’s economic hardships and created an 
isolationist Soviet Union. He then sold the crushing burden of his com¬ 
mand economy to the Soviet people by exploiting a perceived threat from 
foreign countries. 

Similarly, Adolf Hitler invoked German nationalism and antipathy to 
communists to gain absolute control of the Nazi party and Germany. He 
exploited the travails and uncertainty of the great depression of the 1930s, 
employing his National Socialist agenda to portray communists and Jews 
as the source of Germany’s trouble, while insisting that nationalism, 
militarism, and absolute control by the Nazi party were the only way to 
defeat these threats. 

There are many other examples of leaders using political and eco¬ 
nomic uncertainty to gain and maintain power: Benito Mussolini took 
advantage of his country’s economic hardship that was fueling fears of a 
socialist revolution to establish his fascist state. Francisco Franco’s mil¬ 
itary dictatorship was founded on extreme nationalism and a perceived 
impending threat of communism. After being installed by the Soviets, 
Kim Il-sung (and later Kim Jong-il) engaged in an endless campaign 
portraying the USA as an imminent imperialist threat to maintain popu¬ 
lar support of the isolationist regime. In 1972, Ferdinand Marcos gained 



132 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 


dictatorial control over the Philippines by manufacturing threats from 
insurgent communists and Muslims. In the 1970s, Pol Pot created a 
polarized and demonized perception of a “decadent” West to support 
his creation of a national prototype and his ensuing extermination of 
prototypical deviants. 

It is difficult to explain why a nation, or any group for that matter, 
should ever want to grant such unfettered power to one individual or a 
small leadership clique. Historically, research defines leadership as influ¬ 
ence rather than the use of power (Chemers, 2001). Under authoritarian 
rule, however, group members abandon true leadership and embrace 
power-based rule. The goal of this chapter is to examine the social- 
psychological processes behind the transformation of leadership through 
influence into the abuse of power. We begin with a brief review of leader¬ 
ship theories from social psychology and organization science. We then 
draw on the social identity theory of influence, the social identity the¬ 
ory of leadership and uncertainty-identity theory to explain how uncer¬ 
tainty may motivate citizens to endorse leadership that is extremist and 
power-based rather than leadership that works towards the achievement 
of collective goals. 


Leadership and influence 

Leaders play an essential role in the existence and function of most 
groups by acting as a focal point for group identity, group goals, and 
collective action. Chemers (2001, p. 376) provides a practical defini¬ 
tion of leadership as “a process of social influence through which an 
individual enlists and mobilizes the aid of others in the attainment of 
a collective goal.” Central to this conceptualization of leadership is the 
process of social influence whereby leaders influence followers to achieve 
the goals of the group. Although the words power and influence are often 
used interchangeably by laypeople, social and organizational psycholo¬ 
gists distinguish power from leadership in that power gains compliance 
rather than true influence (Chemers, 2001; Cialdini and Trost, 1998; 
Lord, Brown, and Harvey, 2001; Moscovici, 1976; Raven, 1993). The 
influence of leadership is also distinct from mere conformity to group 
norms (e.g., Turner, 1991). With these distinctions in mind, we note that 
most research in leadership tends to examine leadership efficacy - how 
successful a leader is at achieving collective goals. This concept is inde¬ 
pendent of evaluations of leaders personally (e.g., liking, not liking), their 
goals, or their methods of attaining these goals (e.g., Kellerman, 2004). 

The concept of effective leadership dates back to ancient Greece and, 
for centuries, focused on the traits of great leaders. Because leaders are a 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


133 


focal point in group life, they tend to stand out from other group mem¬ 
bers, creating the perception that leadership characteristics are a result of 
personality rather than leadership context (cf. Gilbert and Malone, 1995; 
Haslam, Rothschild, and Ernst, 1998; Ross, 1977). While this perception 
may persist in the popular mind, the scientific proposition that leadership 
comes from innate personality attributes has waned in the last century. 
Recently, however, there has been a slight re-emergence of trait theories 
focusing on leader charisma (e.g., Avolio and Yammarino, 2003) and 
elements of the “Big Five” personality dimensions (Judge, Bono, Ilies 
et al., 2002). 

Modern leadership theories tend to take an interactionist approach in 
which leader efficacy hinges on how effective certain leadership char¬ 
acteristics are in different contexts. The 1960s saw the rise of contin¬ 
gency theories in which the effectiveness of particular leadership styles 
is contingent on properties of the leadership situation. In these theo¬ 
ries, leadership styles vary in terms of leader orientation towards tasks or 
subordinate support (e.g., Fiedler, 1964; Flersey and Blanchard, 1969; 
Flouse, 1971; House and Mitchell, 1974), or inclusion of subordinates 
in group decision-making (Vroom and Jago, 1988; Vroom and Yetton, 
1973). Contingency theories are somewhat limited in that they focus on 
leadership style rather than social interaction between leader and follow¬ 
ers; a limitation addressed by transactional theories. 

Transactional leadership theories focus on elements of leader-follower 
interaction that are beneficial for one or both parties (Messick, 2005). 
An effective example of this exchange approach to leadership is Hollan¬ 
der’s study of idiosyncrasy credit (1958; Hollander and Julian, 1970). 
According to Hollander, followers grant leaders power and status credits 
to establish and maintain group order; in turn, leaders act in the most 
effective way to achieve followers’ goals. A key component of the leader- 
follower transaction model is conformity - that is, leaders who conform 
to group norms earn trust from their followers and idiosyncrasy credits. 
These credits are a resource that the leader may “cash in” in exchange 
for innovative behavior - that is, behavior that may violate group norms 
but move the collective in new directions (Hollander, 1958, 1985). This 
unique leadership ability to inspire group members to accept change that 
may be outside existing collective goals is a key concept in the study of 
transformational leadership. 

Transformational leaders inspire group members to adopt a novel 
group vision that may be outside their own self-interest (Burns, 1978; 
Judge and Bono, 2000). Transformational leadership requires the con¬ 
sideration for followers’ needs that is present in transactional leader¬ 
ship. But, in addition, transformational leaders must also intellectually 


134 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 

stimulate followers by challenging their current mind-set and providing 
inspiring or charismatic leadership to motivate transformation (Aviolo 
and Bass, 1987; Bass, 1985). Leader charisma is an essential element 
of the transformational leadership that is necessary to persuade follow¬ 
ers to put aside self-interest in favor of working towards collective goals 
that serve to transform the group (Bass, 1990; Bass and Avolio, 1993). 
Although it harkens back to earlier personality theories (and their inher¬ 
ent problems), leader charisma is not necessarily a personality trait, but 
it may be attributed to the leader by followers based on their tendency to 
personify leadership (see Fiske and Depret, 1996; Meindl, Ehrlich, and 
Dukerich, 1985). An important consideration about charismatic lead¬ 
ership is that it may cut two ways (e.g., O’Connor, Mumford, Clifton 
et al., 1995); charismatic leaders can be a transformative force for posi¬ 
tive social change (e.g., Gandhi) or for societal destruction (e.g.. Hitler) 
and, in less extreme cases, good and evil can be subjective. 

The study of social cognition has influenced leadership research as 
well, resulting in theories such as leadership categorization theory (e.g.. 
Lord, Brown, Harvey et al., 2001; Lord, Foti, and DeVader, 1984; Lord, 
Foti, and Phillips, 1982; Lord and Hall, 2003; Lord and Maher, 1991). 
According to this perspective, people form schemas of how leaders should 
behave based on past experiences and preconceptions (see Fiske and 
Taylor, 1991). When people behave in ways that are in line with the 
leadership schema, they are mentally classified as a leader and are granted 
all other traits associated with that schema. In this way perceptions of 
leaders contain a “top-down” element whereby many of the beliefs about 
leaders are inferred from mental sets of traits. 

While these perspectives on leadership have garnered empirical sup¬ 
port, they have not really benefited from theoretical advancements in 
mainstream social psychology. In particular, modern leadership research 
tends to focus on the cognitive categorization of leaders and charismatic 
transformational leadership but ignores the role of group processes in 
leadership analysis. Recently, researchers have suggested that leadership 
cannot be thoroughly understood by focusing solely on leader behavior or 
categorization; instead, research and theory on leadership should focus 
on connections between the leader and group as well as the inter- and 
intragroup processes that influence power and leadership (Lord, Brown, 
and Harvey, 2001). 


Social identity and leadership 

The analysis of social acceptance of authoritarian power rests on an analy¬ 
sis of the conditions under which followers effectively conspire with their 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


135 


leaders to permit and sustain power-based leadership. Leaders direct 
groups; thus, leadership is a group process where the interaction between 
the roles of leader and follower plays a fundamental part. A key insight 
into leadership as an identity-based group process is provided by the 
social identity theory of leadership (Hogg, 2001, 2003, 2012). 


Social identity theory 

Social identity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979; Turner, Hogg, Oakes 
et al., 1987) is an analysis of group behavior resting on the premise that 
people use group membership, rather than idiosyncratic traits, to define 
and evaluate themselves and others. According to social identity theory, 
people naturally group themselves and others into social categories that 
are cognitively represented as prototypes. Group prototypes embody a 
set of attributes (thoughts, attitudes, feelings, behaviors) that characterize 
similarities that are shared by group members yet distinguish the group 
from others. Effective prototypes follow the meta-contrast principle - 
that is, they minimize differences within the group while maximizing 
the differences between groups. This increases the perception of group 
entitativity - the idea that the social group has clear boundaries and 
is a distinct entity (Hamilton and Sherman, 1996). Because prototypes 
conform to the meta-contrast principle, they tend to define an ideal rather 
than a typical group member. They are also contextually dependent on 
the comparison group, such that the meta-contrast principle may dictate 
different or modified prototypes with different comparison groups. 

When we perceive ourselves or others as belonging to a social group, we 
assign traits that are prototypical of the group to the individual. This gives 
us a sense of certainty because whether we know people individually or 
not, we can infer prototype-specific information about them. This process 
by which we view a person as a group member rather than a unique 
individual is called depersonalization. When people are depersonalized, 
they are evaluated by how well they fit the prototype which determines 
their level of group prototypicality. In this sense depersonalization is 
related to stereotyping, as all group members are perceived to embody 
some characteristics of the prototype. 

Since our cognitive representation of the social world is structured 
around group memberships, we categorize not only others but also the 
self. Self-categorization theory (Turner et al., 1987) clearly details the 
process by which we depersonalize the self and define elements of our 
self-concept from prototypes of groups to which we belong. When this 
social category is psychologically salient, we evaluate the self in terms 
of the group prototype and tend to view ourselves as more similar to 


136 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 

in-group members and different from out-group members, and tend to 
think, feel, and behave in a manner consistent with the prototype. 

Categorization of the self and others satisfies two major motivations: 
self-enhancement and reduction of self-uncertainty. People are motivated 
to view the self in a positive light, including elements of the self that are 
derived from group membership; thus, individuals seek to achieve and 
sustain a positive in-group evaluation (e.g., Abrams and Hogg, 1988; 
Rubin and Hewstone, 1998). Often the motivation to self-categorize is 
much simpler - it occurs to reduce uncertainty about who one is, one’s 
identity. 


Uncertainty-identity theory 

According to uncertainty-identity theory, individuals are highly moti¬ 
vated to reduce subjective self-uncertainty (Hogg, 2000, 2007, 2012). 
Feeling uncertain about the self, whether personally or interpersonally, 
or about one’s place in society, is an aversive state which people are 
motivated to resolve. Identification with social groups provides a relief 
from subjective self-uncertainty through the depersonalization process 
whereby the self-concept is derived from a group prototype. Group iden¬ 
tification reduces self-uncertainty because the prototype associated with 
a given social identity provides a guide to how individuals should think, 
feel, and behave in potentially ambiguous situations. Group prototypes 
provide a model of how individuals within the group and the group as 
a whole should behave as well as who members of other groups are and 
how they behave. In this sense they serve to inform people of how they 
should interact with members of their own and other groups. The ten¬ 
dency to identify with groups to reduce uncertainty is enhanced by the 
perceived entitativity of the social group (Hogg, Meehan, and Farquhar- 
son, 2010; Hogg, Sherman, Dierselhuis et al., 2007). Entitative groups 
tend to have distinct boundaries and clear, prescriptive prototypes. Iden¬ 
tification with these groups gives individuals an unambiguous concept 
of who they are and where they fit in the social world. Consequently, 
uncertainty motivates group members to identify with their in-group, 
and its defining values whatever they may be; this is particularly the case 
when a group is viewed as highly entitative. Both self-enhancement and 
uncertainty reduction provide motivation for individuals to engage in 
self-categorization and adhere to group prototypes. 

There are frequent situations where uncertainty, particularly societal 
uncertainty, can be high. Economic instability is experienced by even the 
richest countries in today’s highly interdependent global economy, and 
it impacts each citizen in turn. Food shortages and natural disaster leave 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


137 


great masses of people wondering how they will feed, clothe, and shel¬ 
ter themselves and their loved ones. Societal inequality across the world 
promotes conflict between groups who consider themselves deprived and 
those who control resources. As these circumstances emerge, evolve, and 
shift, people look to leaders of important groups to provide answers. 
When uncertainty is extreme, people may seek groups that are highly 
entitative with simple prototypes and rigid hierarchy (Hogg, 2004). This 
may motivate people to seek leadership that is extreme, ideologically 
rigid, and authoritarian (Hogg, 2005a). In this sense managing uncer¬ 
tainty is a potentially powerful tool for authoritarian leaders because 
of its ability to motivate social-identification processes. To analyze this 
relationship further, the social identity theory of leadership provides a 
theoretical framework that helps to integrate social-identity processes, 
leadership, and uncertainty-identity theory. 


Social identity theory of leadership 

The social identity theory of leadership (Hogg, 2001, 2003, 2012) takes 
into account the premise that leadership is a feature of social groups and 
is subject to the social cognitive processes that influence group member¬ 
ship and group behavior. As outlined in the previous section, the pro¬ 
cesses of self-categorization and depersonalization play a central role in 
social-identity processes, group behavior, and intra/intergroup relations. 
Because leadership is a feature of group processes, it is highly plausible 
that social-cognitive processes have great influence on leader emergence, 
longevity, influence and effectiveness. The social identity theory of lead¬ 
ership aims to integrate the impact of leader categorization and charisma 
with important group processes that result from psychologically belong¬ 
ing to the group, particularly perceptions of group prototypicality. 

One key tenet of the social identity theory of leadership that sets it 
apart from other more traditional theories is that, when group mem¬ 
bership is important to people, leaders who are more prototypical are 
more effective regardless of personality or leadership schemas. Highly 
prototypical group members are embodiments of the group prototype; 
thus, they are more likely to be the source of influence and conformity 
processes while less prototypical members generally conform to these 
influence processes (e.g., Abrams and Hogg, 1990; van Rnippenberg, 
van Knippenberg, and van Dijk, 2000). Prototypical group members 
are also more socially attractive and better liked than less prototypical 
members, allowing them to more easily gain compliance from the rest of 
the group (e.g., Berscheid and Reis, 1998). Prototypical leaders are also 
perceived as being central group members who identify strongly with the 


138 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 


group, leading other members to trust them to act in the group’s best 
interest. This trust grants prototypical leaders a seemingly paradoxical 
advantage: By being prototypical they accumulate idiosyncrasy credits 
(Hollander, 1958) that allow them to act in more innovative, transfor¬ 
mational ways, behavior that is at odds with the prescribed behavior of the 
group prototype. In other words, idiosyncrasy credits allow leaders to be 
nonprototypical and garner acceptance for novel ideas and group direc¬ 
tions (e.g., Haslam and Platow, 2001a; Platow and van Knippenberg, 
2001 ). 

For prototypical leaders, trust is a powerful subsidy, particularly when 
the group faces uncertainty. Through categorization people are able to 
infer who they are, who others are, and the terms of interaction. A cohe¬ 
sive in-group has reduced risk of behavior that may threaten group mem¬ 
bers because individuals have a vested interest in the good of the group. 
Highly prototypical leaders are trusted greatly and this sense of trust 
is bolstered in the face of risk and uncertainty. One powerful way that 
group members respond to risk and uncertainty is increased group loy¬ 
alty (Hirschmann, 1970). Often leaders manage trust by focusing the 
group’s attention on threats from mistrusted enemies - for example, by 
characterizing Westerners as immoderate and immoral, and Muslims as 
dangerous and fanatical. Indeed, this has been a powerful tool for nearly 
all authoritarian leaders when consolidating and maintaining power. 

Since prototypicality defines the standard of group life, members pay 
a great deal of attention to prototype-relevant information (e.g., Reicher, 
1984). Thus the fact that a leader is prototypical makes him or her stand 
out against the background of the group, and this focus of cognitive 
activity enhances the correspondence bias - people disproportionately 
map others’ attributes onto invariant underlying personality traits or dis¬ 
positions (Gawronski, 2004). This attributional process produces the 
perception of a charismatic leadership personality (cf. Haslam and Pla¬ 
tow, 2001a, 2001b). Prototypical and charismatic leaders’ popularity and 
high status with the group leads them to be trusted to know what is best 
for the group and grants them the power to influence others (e.g., Erber 
and Fiske, 1984). Charismatic leaders play up their own prototypicality 
and dismiss personal behavior that may appear nonprototypical. They 
also direct attention to marginal group members who may be perceived 
as deviant or use comparisons with relevant out-groups in an effort to 
enhance their own prototypicality through a contrast effect. Another tac¬ 
tic is to vilify other contenders for leadership as being nonprototypical or 
even subversive. Authoritarian leaders use all of these strategies to help 
consolidate power, eliminate political challengers, and maintain control 
over a highly entitative group. 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


139 


Uncertainty and power in authoritarian states 

Often authoritarian leaders use discourse that creates a perception of 
uncertainty about the nation’s safety, integrity, or future by exaggerat¬ 
ing threats from other nations, people, or political parties. In line with 
uncertainty-identity theory, this process can raise group membership 
salience and drive national identification, further boosting the power of 
a prototypical leader (Hogg, 2005b; Hohman, Hogg, and Bligh, 2010). 
As is often the case in times of national change, the rise of authoritarian 
states occurs during periods of great social conflict. Whether it is war, 
poverty, conflicting social values, or simply a changing national identity, 
social conflict and disagreement are sources of intense uncertainty. Peo¬ 
ple question their national identity, their values, and their future during 
these periods. It is during these times that the greatest number of people 
are experiencing the highest levels of uncertainty and desperately seeking 
answers. Authoritarian leadership is incredibly adept at capitalizing on 
this overwhelming need to reduce uncertainty. 

Social conflict can threaten the distinctiveness of one’s social group, 
driving members to seek enhanced group entitativity. Authoritarian lead¬ 
ers help to create a sense of strong entitativity that can lead the group to 
develop a mind-set of constant threat from foreign influence. Authoritar¬ 
ian leaders foster homogeneity and conformity by promoting uncertainty, 
suspicion, and intolerance while suppressing dissent, deviation, and crit¬ 
icism. They actively construct a rigid, indisputable worldview that dis¬ 
tinguishes the superiority of the state while simultaneously portraying it 
as relentlessly threatened by outside forces. Authoritarian leaders also 
strengthen entitativity by defining the nation and its people in essentialist 
terms. Citizens view properties that define their national identification 
as a deep-seated and immutable essence that characterizes the nation 
and its citizens. Essentialism (e.g., Haslam et al., 2000) creates the per¬ 
ception that group beliefs and attitudes are natural and right and have 
an important function to explain the group and its place in the world. 
In this sense, leaders who engineer and construct these entitative beliefs 
create a national ideology (e.g., Thompson, 1990) that is powerful and 
directive. 

By using uncertainty to create a sense of enhanced entitativity, leaders 
foster a state where members are likely to derive a large part of their self- 
concept from their social identity as party members and to have a less 
distinct sense of a boundary between self and group (cf. Swann’s notion 
of “identity fusion” - e.g., Swann, Polzer, Seyle et al., 2004; Swann, Rent- 
frow, and Guinn, 2003). Through this transformational process, charis¬ 
matic leaders can use extreme uncertainty to manipulate identification 


140 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 

and perceptions of entitativity and produce a radical state with ortho¬ 
dox and ideological belief systems. These nations develop an oppressive 
and suffocating environment that encourages orthodoxy and conformity, 
and stifles creativity and the introduction of new ideas. Initially, this 
degree of orthodoxy can be attractive to citizens; such a desire was cap¬ 
tured when Milan Kundera wrote of life in Cold War-era, communist 
Czechoslovakia: “Authoritarianism is not only hell, but all the dream of 
paradise - the age-old dream of a world where everybody would live in 
harmony, united by a single common will and faith, without secrets from 
one another” (Kundera, 1979). 

History suggests, however, that this dream is short-lived. These states 
become constricted environments where citizens live in fear of being 
exposed as a dissident or for not actively supporting the party. Creativity, 
innovation, and change by followers become exceedingly difficult, and 
leadership has relatively unlimited and unregulated power over citizens’ 
lives. This too was captured by Kundera: “Once the dream of paradise 
starts to turn into reality, however, here and there people begin to crop up 
who stand in its way. And so the rulers of paradise must build a little gulag 
on the side of Eden. In the course of time this gulag grows ever bigger and 
more perfect, while the adjoining paradise gets even smaller and poorer” 
(Kundera, 1979). Often when these states succumb to such a stifling 
condition, citizens begin to lose faith in leadership, thus undermining 
leader influence. It is at this point that authoritarian leaders often rely on 
the threat of power to maintain control. It is this exorcism of power that 
lies at the crux of effective and destructive leadership. 

Abuse of power is the destructive legacy of authoritarian leadership. 
Research in organizational science and social psychology defines effec¬ 
tive leadership as a transformation of collective vision through influ¬ 
ence, not through the coercive exercise of power (Chemers, 2001). Some 
researchers argue that influence itself is a form of power as it enables 
persuasion. Indeed, Turner (2005) included persuasion as the power to 
influence in his three-process theory of power. The power to persuade, 
however, is the ability to influence others’ actions by convincing them 
the behavior is right, that they want to do it. While this is often the case 
in effective forms of leadership, what is often observed in authoritarian 
leadership is the other side of power: control. Control is the ability to 
gain compliance and influence actions that people do not want to take, 
or are uninterested in taking. Authoritarians gain compliance through 
two processes: authority and coercion. Leaders use their authority to 
control followers’ behavior through group rules and norms. Citizens are 
compelled to obey the leader because the law demands it. Coercion is the 
use of threat to control citizens against their will. For example, the strict 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


141 


police states of the Soviet and Nazi regimes were well known for using 
the threat of sanction, imprisonment, and death to control citizens. 

While some leaders of extremely orthodox groups may not use their 
power in destructive ways, authoritarian political leaders often do. 
According to uncertainty-identity theory and the social identity theory 
of leadership, hierarchical role differentiation and the power afforded 
to prototypical leaders in highly entitative groups provide insight into 
leaders’ harsh treatment of followers. Uncertainty influences leadership 
by motivating group identification, thereby enhancing prototype-based 
leadership. In conditions of high uncertainty, people not only identify 
more strongly with the group, but they also seek to enhance the enti- 
tativity of their group. Entitativity gives the group clear structure with 
well-defined role relationships; thus, leadership structures tend to be 
concrete with defined leader-follower role relations which reduce fol¬ 
lowers’ uncertainty about their place in the world. High entitativity and 
prototype-based leadership are not inherently negative; they provide a 
guide for behavior and inform people of their standing in society. How¬ 
ever, extreme uncertainty may transform leadership, as “a process of 
social influence through which an individual enlists and mobilizes the 
aid of others in the attainment of a collective goal” (Chemers, 2001, 
p. 376), into a form of autocratic, power-based tyranny (Hogg, 2001, 
2005a, 2005c; Hogg and Reid, 2001). 

When citizens identify with their nation as a highly entitative collective, 
the leader is invested with excessive power to influence. There are two 
essential reasons for this: trust and hierarchy role differentiation. Because 
prototypical leaders are trusted and liked by group members, they are 
given the opportunity to be creative and innovative. This affordance may 
lead them to stray from the best interests of the group. Citizens tend to 
approve of the leader’s actions, or, if not, they believe that disapproval is 
nonnormative and are motivated not to voice dissent. In most groups, if 
a leader’s behavior is too radical and violates the norms of the group, he 
will gradually begin to appear nonprototypical, thus losing his power to 
influence. However, when a group is highly cohesive and characterized 
by extreme ideological identification, consensual liking for the leader is so 
strong, and attribution to charisma so complete, that dissent and criticism 
are unlikely. In these situations, there are no checks or restraints on the 
leaders’ ability to influence and they are able to make decisions with no 
entity in place to analyze their prudence or ethics. Social psychologists 
have been able to reproduce this effect in abstract laboratory settings, 
showing that group members are willing to endorse leaders who behave 
in ways that are not in the best interest of the group, as long as the leader 
is considered highly prototypical (e.g.. Duck and Fielding, 2003). 


142 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 


The second reason that power becomes excessive in highly salient, 
highly entitative groups is that group structure is transformed into a 
starkly hierarchical role differentiation. Highly prototypical leaders who 
maintain a position of power appear exceedingly influential, consensually 
approved of, and essentially charismatic. This produces a status differen¬ 
tiation between leader and follower whereby the leader appears separate 
from the rest of the group and the leader-follower relationship becomes 
an intergroup relationship. The real-world consequence of this transfor¬ 
mation is a genuine disconnect between the lives of leaders and citizens. 
Leaders are viewed as mythical “others” who wield vast power, defend 
against tyrannical national enemies, and have eyes and ears everywhere. 

Leaders, however, can be incredibly out of touch with the lives of 
citizens. The intergroup context severs the empathic bond between leader 
and follower. Leaders and followers no longer share the same group 
membership. Instead, leaders inhabit a higher status that is perceived 
as consensual, stable, and legitimate. In this context there is significant 
potential for conflict between leaders and followers because power, as 
a commodity, is owned solely by the leadership. This situation is often 
naturalized and maintained by the development of powerful legitimizing 
myths (Chen and Tyler, 2001). Both leaders and followers can recognize 
a status-based group difference, the leadership inhabiting an all-powerful 
out-group position to the subservient in-group. Leaders may try to re¬ 
establish their in-group status and influence by confirming their in-group 
prototypicality; however, under authoritarian rule this is often not the 
case. 

Authoritarian rulers preserve power (and status) differentiation, thus 
maintaining an intergroup relationship between leader(s) and followers. 
Paradoxically, this state of affairs diminishes the leader’s ability to influ¬ 
ence based on prototypicality. This loss of influence can be perceived 
by the leader as a threat to his or her power and contribute to a sense 
of mistrust, rejection, and distance between the leader and followers. In 
turn, the experience of the leader as an out-group member further severs 
the empathic bond, motivating the leader to exercise power, rather than 
lead. In accordance with Turner’s (2005) three-process theory, leaders 
who lose their ability to persuade must inordinately rely on authority and 
coercion to exert their will. 

In the absence of influence through persuasion, leaders who desire 
to control citizens must do so through either authority or coercion. If 
that leadership is still viewed as legitimate, leaders can impose their will 
through authority. Though the people may not be persuaded that the 
laws are in their best interest, they still see the ruling body as legitimate; 
thus, laws must be followed to maintain order and the integrity of the 


Political leadership under uncertainty 


143 


group. It is important to note that deference to authority is not always 
experienced as oppression but is often viewed as voluntary submission 
which can empower followers (Tyler and Degoey, 1995). 

If the leadership has lost the ability to influence and is not viewed 
as having legitimate authority, power may be exerted through coercion. 
In the most poisonous display of power, leaders use coercion with no 
effort to persuade or appeal to legitimate authority; instead they control 
followers’ behavior against their will, usually through threat of sanc¬ 
tion, imprisonment, or violence. Followers under the force of coercion 
have no conversion of personal belief or will; they are forced to behave 
according to the will of leadership under threat from the leadership itself. 
Coercion causes the dissolution of the empathic bond between leader 
and follower and any semblance of trust. It is important to note that 
Turner (2005) notes that this form of power is, in fact, the weakest pro¬ 
cess because it reflects a destruction of the functioning and unity of the 
group. 


Conclusion 

The history of human civilization is fraught with destructive leaders who 
abuse their power and the citizens who granted them that power. It 
is hopeful that so much attention is paid to these authoritarian rulers 
because humankind seeks to end what often turns out to be a very 
dangerous and destructive form of rule. In this chapter we use social- 
psychological research and theory to elucidate the rise and rule of 
destructive leadership. 

An effective way to reduce subjective self-uncertainty, particularly 
that which is related to societal uncertainty, is to identify with subjec¬ 
tively important social groups. When people experience extreme societal 
upheaval and uncertainty, they are more likely to seek solace in highly 
entitative, ideologically rigid, and hierarchical groups. These groups fos¬ 
ter authoritarian rule and are highly susceptible to abuse of power by 
leaders. Within these highly entitative groups, the prototype is typically 
simple, and leaders that closely resemble the prototype gain popularity 
and trust from followers. Along with social attractiveness and trust comes 
a great deal of power for these leaders as well. 

In these authoritarian states, leaders may manipulate or even generate 
perceptions of uncertainty as a means of increasing and maintaining 
power. Uncertainty further drives members to identify and seek relief 
from the group and the leader. Uncertainty also enhances the perceived 
entitativity of the group, and, in concert with high member identification, 
grants the leader extreme power of influence. Authoritarian leaders use 


144 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg 


their influence to build a state where they maintain complete control 
over resources, military power, and media. If leaders feel their influence 
slipping, they may abuse this power in an effort to maintain control over 
the populace. 

However, authoritarian states that endure over time do so by more than 
brute force. The leaders of these states use control over their followers’ 
lives to engineer a condition of uncertainty that perpetuates their rule. 
They employ propaganda to produce the perception of a state with an 
uncertain future that needs the guidance of the leader. They generate 
perceptions of attempted subversion from insiders who would harm the 
collective and threats from alien outsiders who would destroy their nation. 
Authoritarian leaders’ absolute control of the flow of information in 
their states allows them substantial ability to use uncertainty to influence 
people. By creating “true believers,” a leader does not need a constant 
threat of force to maintain control. It is notable, at the time of writing 
this chapter, that North Korea, one of the few remaining authoritarian 
states from the twentieth century, maintains absolute control over all 
media within the state and remains one of the most closed societies on 
earth. 

Most leadership scenarios do not devolve into the abusive all-powerful 
state of affairs witnessed in autocracies. Contrary to earlier positions 
that leadership is entirely distinct from power, nearly all leaders exercise 
power, but in effective leader-follower relationships this occurs in the 
form of influence. In line with the social identity theory of leadership, 
the power to influence grows as a leader is more prototypical. This advan¬ 
tage does not automatically lend itself to abuse; ideally, more prototypical 
group members embody the will and goals of the group. Effective proto¬ 
typical leaders are able to influence members in ways that help the group 
achieve its goals and maintain a positive identity. History, though, has 
clearly been marked by leaders that have twisted power to create a state 
that is abusive, stifling, and oppressive. Authoritarian leaders abuse pro¬ 
totypicality and manipulate uncertainty to galvanize their grip on power 
and then enact that power on citizens in oppressive and destructive ways. 
These states are characterized by a significant breach between leader and 
follower in terms of power and status - a power distance that breeds inter¬ 
group distrust and lack of empathy. This government structure creates an 
environment primed for the abuse of the meek by the strong. As noted 
by Turner, however, the use of abusive power is enacting the weakest 
form of power because it destroys the very foundation of the state. As 
such, authoritarian governments cannot stand forever by crushing their 
citizens; they change or they crumble. 



Political leadership under uncertainty 


145 


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9 Those who supported and voted for 

Berlusconi: a social-psychological profile 
of the willing followers of a controversial 
political leader 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


If Italians still vote for Berlusconi, they are the problem not him. 

(Mario Monti, prime minister, February 20, 2013) 


Introduction 

Recently, the political arena has become more personalized, pointing 
out the importance of psychological variables beyond the traditional 
sociodemographical ones (Caprara and Zimbardo, 2004; Jost, Nosek, 
and Gosling, 2008). Voters are active, reasoning individuals that seek to 
achieve the best match between the political offer, on the one hand, and 
their personality, values and attitudes on the other hand (Jost, Federico, 
and Napier, 2009). The process of the personalization of politics involves 
two different aspects, one regarding the political candidates and the other 
concerning the electorate. 

On the one hand, the focus of political campaigns is shifting more 
and more onto the candidate profile. In this sense, the personality of 
candidates is taking a key role in mass communications, the goal being 
to attract the attention and the support of voters. On the other hand, 
the psychological characteristics of voters, rather than their belonging to 
different groups, are becoming the pivotal variables in affecting political 
choices (Caprara and Zimbardo, 2004; Jost, 2006). Nowadays, beliefs, 
inclinations, personality traits, and values are becoming the most impor¬ 
tant factors that shape voters’ choices in contemporary Western societies. 

In Italy, a controversial and unusual political leader, Silvio Berlusconi, 
has typically embodied and promoted these processes in the last 20 years. 
But still, in modern democracies, voters are often skeptical and distrust¬ 
ful of political leaders, as political cynicism, negativism, and abstention 
seem indeed to be growing phenomena (e.g. Gnisci, Di Conza, Senese 


150 



Those who supported Berlusconi 


151 


et al., 2009; Pattyn, van Hiel, Dhont et al., 2012). As regards Berlus¬ 
coni, many legitimate reasons for suspicion and doubt have been raised 
both in Italy and abroad since he first entered politics. For example, 
throughout the last decade, such an international, authoritative review 
as The Economist has repeatedly referred to Berlusconi’s character and 
his policies in negative terms, considering Berlusconi to be unfit to rule 
the country (“An Italian story,” 2001), and as a political leader who 
has eventually fooled an entire country by prejudicing its future (“Silvio 
Berlusconi’s record: the man who screwed an entire country,” 2011). 

However, although alternating wins and defeats have characterized his 
political career, Berlusconi has been able to overcome suspicions and 
worries, gaining a consistent and remarkable electoral consensus that 
allowed him to be a leading actor in Italian and international politics for 
almost two decades. How and why? Part of Berlusconi’s political success 
evidently stems from his pervasive influence on the media, being himself a 
media mogul. However, this is only part of the story. Berlusconi’s political 
success can be explained by looking at the ideological and psychological 
interface between himself and his electoral base. In fact, there is empirical 
evidence that people tend to vote for parties or coalitions that have lead¬ 
ers they perceive as similar to themselves and that pursue and promote 
policies they value as important (e.g., Caprara, Schwartz, Capanna et al., 
2006). In this perspective, many scholars agree that people feel attracted 
by ideologies (and politicians) that provide the best match with their 
own psychological motives, thereby creating a sort of “elective affini¬ 
ties” - that is, the strength of mutual attraction connecting the con¬ 
tents of belief systems and the motives of their adherents (Jost et al., 
2009). 

Our main argument assumes that Berlusconi was able to achieve mass 
consensus because he has effectively managed to comprehend and appeal 
to the reasoning, beliefs, values, and character of the right-wing electorate 
(or at least a large part of it). Within this framework, it appears to be of 
primary importance to understand the psychological roots of Berlusconi’s 
consensus by taking a closer look at those who supported and voted for 
him. Who are they? What do they think? How do they see the world? What 
is their personality? What do they pursue and what are their goals? Those 
were the research questions that guided our investigation. In this perspec¬ 
tive, the aim of the present chapter was to draw a social-psychological 
profile of Berlusconi’s followers by using original survey data gathered 
between 2007 and 2008. In the following sections, we will focus our 
analysis on the sociopolitical attitudes, personal values, and personality 
traits of individuals who voted for the right-wing coalition that supported 
Berlusconi as prime minister through a comparison with those who voted 


152 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


for the opposing left-wing coalition. In the light of “ideology as motivated 
social cognition framework” (Jost, Glaser, Kruglanski et al., 2003), we 
argue that the key point in understanding Berlusconi’s success is the 
interplay between his psychological profile and his populist communica¬ 
tion, on the one hand, and the psychosocial features of his electoral base 
on the other hand. While a lot has been written about Berlusconi (e.g., 
Caprara and Vecchione, 2006), less intensive analyses have been devoted 
to his supporters. Naturally, these psychological processes can explain 
only part of the entire complex phenomenon of achieving electoral con¬ 
sensus and practicing political power. Nevertheless, they apparently play 
an important, growing, and recognized role. 


Social attitudes and political beliefs 

In the last years, two kinds of sociopolitical attitudes have became impor¬ 
tant concepts in political psychology - namely, right-wing authoritarian¬ 
ism (RWA) and social dominance orientation (SDO). These constructs 
were found sufficient to account for a number of diverse phenomena 
regarding ideology orientation and intergroup relations. In fact, RWA 
and SDO have proven to be the best predictors of policy preferences, 
voting behavior, and prejudice (e.g., Altemeyer, 1998; Federico and 
Sidanius, 2002; Jost et al., 2003; Leone, Desimoni, and Chirumbolo, 
2012; McFarland, 1998; Peterson, Doty, and Winter, 1993; Sidanius 
and Pratto, 1999; Whitley, 1999). 

RWA is currently defined by a configuration of three attitudinal clus¬ 
ters: conventionalism, submission to authority, and aggression against 
out-groups (Altemeyer, 1996). Individuals high in RWA tend to strictly 
adhere to rules, social norms, traditions, and conventions. They tend to 
endorse authority uncritically and are inclined to disregard or devalue 
norm-violators and disadvantaged out-groups. Conversely, SDO refers 
to individual orientation towards group inequality, and is framed within a 
theory of intergroup relations in which societies aim to minimize conflicts 
by creating ideologies that legitimize the hegemony of dominant groups 
and the oppression of out-groups (e.g., Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). Indi¬ 
viduals high in SDO tend to prefer group relations to be hierarchical, 
whereas low scorers prefer equality between groups (Pratto, Sidanius, 
Stallworth et al., 1994). 

Although RWA and SDO were initially conceived as dimensions of per¬ 
sonality, recent evidence suggests that RWA and SDO do not assess basic 
dispositional traits but instead social attitudes and beliefs that are broadly 
ideological in nature (Duckitt, 2001). In this perspective, some authors 
have suggested that RWA and SDO are rooted in different motivational 


Those who supported Berlusconi 


153 


processes and socialization patterns. According to the dual process model 
of ideology and prejudice, RWA and SDO have different personality and 
attitudinal antecedents. RWA is mostly predicted by a belief that the 
world is a dangerous place to live in, which, in turn, is predicted by the 
personality dimension of social conformity (Duckitt, Wagner, du Plessis 
et al., 2002). On the other hand, SDO is mainly predicted by the belief 
that the world is a competitive jungle, which, in turn, is predicted by the 
personality dimension of tough-mindedness (Duckitt et al., 2002). 

This conception of RWA and SDO is rooted in an enduring research 
tradition that has investigated the distinction between different dimen¬ 
sions of individuals’ political attitudes and values (e.g., Braithwaite, 1994; 
Duckitt, 2001; Rokeach, 1973; Schwartz, 1992). Originally, Eysenck 
(1954) depicted a two-factor model of ideology, in which one com¬ 
ponent was represented by conservatism versus radicalism: this factor 
entails conformity, social order, and religiousness at one pole, and free¬ 
dom, autonomy, relativism, and permissiveness at the other. This dimen¬ 
sion closely resembles RWA. The other component was represented by 
tough-mindedness versus tender-mindedness: this factor involves power 
and inequality on one side and egalitarianism and concern for the under¬ 
privileged on the other. This factor strongly recalls SDO. 

More recently, some authors have focused on the ideological dimen¬ 
sions of conservative agendas, identifying two basic components (e.g., 
Jost et al., 2003): (1) acceptance of versus opposition to inequality, and 
(2) resistance versus openness to change. According to Jost et al., these 
two dimensions reflect a fundamental psychological motivation - namely, 
avoiding threat and uncertainty. Acceptance of inequality would more 
closely translate into SDO, which focuses on competition and inequal¬ 
ity in group status. On the other hand, resistance to change would 
more strongly translate into RWA, as it encompasses the convention¬ 
alism and authoritarian submission that make individuals high in RWA 
very committed to the conservation of the status quo. Similar reasoning 
is advanced by other authors who argue that economic and sociocultural 
conservatism exist as distinct strands (e.g., Feldman and Johnston, 2009; 
Zumbrunnen and Gangl, 2008). 

Within this framework, we aimed to investigate differences in social 
attitudes and political beliefs between Berlusconi’s voters and the oppos¬ 
ing left-wing voters. Our research questions were, what do they think 
and how do they see the world from a political point of view? In 2007, 
we administered a questionnaire containing measures of sociopolitical 
attitudes to 517 participants (252 men and 264 women, 1 missing value; 
the average age was 34.55 years - SD = 10.50), asking them to report 
how they had voted at the last national election of 2006. In that election, 


154 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


two important political leaders were contending for political consensus. 
Berlusconi was the candidate for prime minister of a right-wing coalition 
called Casa delle Liberta (CdL - “Home of Freedom”), and Prodi was 
the candidate of a left-wing coalition called Unione (“Union”). In this 
sample, 209 participants said that they had voted for CdL, and 225 had 
voted for Unione (the remaining responses were missing, were those of 
nonvoters, or were those of participants that had voted for minor parties). 
Participants were interviewed via a structured questionnaire, including 
the scales ofRWA (Funke, 2005) and SDO (Pratto et al., 1994). More¬ 
over, different aspects of political beliefs were also measured (Chirum- 
bolo, Areni, and Sensales, 2004). These attitudinal dimensions were as 
follows: laissez-faire economics (i.e., free-market ideology), ethnocen¬ 
tric and anti-immigrant attitudes, preference for law and order, support 
for equalitarian and solidarist policies, multiculturalism, pacifism and 
antimilitaristic attitudes, nationalism, preference for an autocratic lead¬ 
ership and a centralized political power, individualism, and religiousness. 
Definitions and sample items of the constructs are given in Table 9.1 

The results indicated that left-wing and right-wing voters significantly 
differed in RWA and SDO. Berlusconi’s voters were higher in both RWA 
and SDO than the left-wing voters of Unione (see Table 9.2). These 
results were also found when we controlled for demographics such as 
gender, age, and education. 

Individuals that score higher in authoritarianism tend to adhere to 
social norms and conventions that are traditional and well accepted, and 
tend to obey uncritically and trustfully established authorities, institu¬ 
tions, and their representatives (e.g., the government, Catholic Church, 
Pope). At the same time, they disrespect and devalue deviant groups 
that are considered unconventional and norm-violators (e.g., homo¬ 
sexuals, immigrants, radicals, atheists, communists). In the same way, 
people that score higher in SDO reveal a preference for hierarchical 
intergroup relationships, desiring that their own in-group dominate the 
out-groups. They believe that society is reasonably divided into differ¬ 
ent social groups, and that some are superior to others by nature. They 
are motivated and feel it legitimate to perpetuate the distance between 
groups in terms of social and material status, and thus that inferior groups 
“should stay in their place” and be controlled by superior groups. 

Moreover, the electorate significantly differed also regarding all 
political attitudes considered except for religiousness (see Figure 9.1). 
Controlling for gender, age, and education, multivariate and univariate 
analysis revealed that Berlusconi’s voters, compared with left-wing 
voters, showed more support for free-market economy, ethnocentrism, law 
and order, nationalism, autocratic leadership, and individualism', on the other 


Those who supported Berlusconi 


155 


Table 9.1 Definitiotis and examples of sociopolitical attitudes and beliefs 


Scale 

Definition 

Example 

Right-wing 

Conventionalism; authoritarian 

Obedience to and respect for 

authoritarian¬ 

submission; authoritarian 

authority are the most 

ism 

aggression 

important virtues children 
should learn 

Social 

Preference for hierarchical 

Superior groups should 

dominance 

(vs. equal) intergroup 

dominate inferior groups 

orientation 

relationships; desire of one’s 
own in-group to dominate the 
out-groups 


Laissez-faire 

Support for free market 

The market always breeds 


economy vs. support for 

richness The state should not 


welfare state 

intervene in the economy 

Ethnocentrism 

Attitudes against immigration 

Immigration increases 


policies and immigrants 

criminality Illegal immigrants 
should be immediately 
expelled 

Law and order 

Demand for social order and 

We need more order and 


discipline; respect for the law 

discipline for everybody 

Equality and 

Support for policies that favor 

Giving equal opportunities to 

solidarity 

equality among people and 

everybody increases social 


groups; solidarity 

progress 

Multiculturalism 

Refer to a pluralistic, 

The state should encourage 

and 

multicultural, and 

diversity and the freedom of 

universalism 

internationalist view of the 

cultural, philosophical, and 


world and of society 

political expression 

Pacifism 

Support for pacifist policies and 

If the government wants to 


antimilitaristic stands 

conserve resources, we should 
cut military expenditure 

Autocratic 

Preference for autocratic 

Only a strong leader can solve 

leadership and 

leadership and centralized 

the problems of our country 

power 

political power 


Nationalism 

Demand for strong national 

We need to regain a strong 


identity and feelings 

national feeling 

Individualism 

Attitudes that set the individual’s 

The individual comes before the 


needs and interests before the 
community’s; individual 
achievement as the most 
important thing 

community 

Religiousness 

Importance of religious and 

Religious education is very 


spiritual values 

important for the individual 



156 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


Table 9.2 RWA and SDO scores as 
a function of voting 



Unione (Left) 

CdL (Berlusconi) 

RWA 

46.31 

53.73 

SDO 

46.96 

53.23 



Figure 9.1 Political attitudes as a function of voting for Berlusconi versus 
the left-wing parties. 


hand, they endorsed to a lesser extent egalitarianism, multiculturalism, and 
pacifism. 

Berlusconi’s voters believed above all in economic laissez-faire and free- 
market ideology, as opposed to the welfare state and government inter¬ 
vention in the country’s economic structure. They favored policies that 
encompass individual freedom and light regulation. They favored private 
(vs. public) entrepreneurship and supported the noninterference of the 
state in business and the economy. Conversely, they opposed polices that 
tend to increase the redistributive function of the welfare state, to sup¬ 
port the disadvantaged strata of society, and to reduce the discrepancies 
between social groups and integrate different cultures and communities. 
These kinds of political beliefs appear to be consistent with their higher 
level of SDO. 

Right-wing (vs. left-wing) voters believe that a strong, autocratic leader 
can solve the problems of the nation by imposing his decisiveness and 
determination over the ineffective power of parliament and political 























Those who supported Berlusconi 


157 


High 

Acceptance 


SDO 

of inequality 


LAISSEZ-FAIRE 


CdLBERLUSCONI 
INDIVIDUALISM 


JD LEADERSHIP 
ETHNOCENTRISM 


NATIONALISM 


High RWA 


jg 0 Openness _ 0 40 
to change 


UNIONELEFT 

© 

• PACIFISM 


RELIGIOUSNESS 


Resistance 
to change 


SOLIDARITY 


MULTICULTURALISM 


Low 

Increase 


SDO 

equality 


Figure 9.2 Plot of the political attitudes as a function of RWA and SDO. 


parties. This centralization of power would make political decisions faster 
and more efficient, ensuring respect for the law, and discipline and order 
in society. Moreover, this kind of political belief appears to be in line with 
their higher level of authoritarianism. 

We then considered the two basic dimensions of social attitudes (RWA 
and SDO) together with political beliefs. We conceived RWA as indexing 
the factor of “cultural conservatism/resistance-to-change” versus “cul¬ 
tural liberalism/openness, and SDO as indexing the factor of “eco¬ 
nomic conservatism/acceptance-of-group-inequality” versus “economic 
liberalism/increase-group-equality.” In Figure 9.2, we plot the political 
attitudes and the two groups of voters (left-wing and right-wing) in this 
bidimensional space. 

Figure 9.2 clearly shows how voting and the different sociopolitical 
beliefs group together. The votes for Berlusconi cluster together with 
beliefs such as economic laissez-faire, individualism, autocratic leadership, 
and ethnocentrism in the quadrant of high RWA/resistance-to-change 
and high SDO/acceptance-of-group-inequality. On the other hand, votes 
for the left-wing side go together with multiculturalism, solidarity, and 
pacifism in the quadrant of low RWA/resistance to change and low 
SDO/acceptance-of-group-inequality. Political beliefs such as nationalism 
and law and order gravitate mainly on the high RWA/resistance-to-change 
pole, as they do not appear to imply an endorsement of inequality per se. 1 


1 Interestingly, religiousness did not seem to load in any of the two dimensions. This result 
can be explained by the presence of Catholic parties and voters in both left-wing and 
right-wing coalitions. 





158 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


Taken together, these results indicate a very clear picture of the 
sociopolitical beliefs of Berlusconi’s supporters and how they see the 
world. Many of these ideological stands have characterized the entire 
political career of Berlusconi and his charismatic populist leadership, 
matching well those held by his electorate. 

Since he entered politics in 1994, Berlusconi has appealed to his elec¬ 
torate by promising a “rivoluzione liberale” (literally, “laissez-faire revo¬ 
lution”) with slogans such as “tneno stato, meno tasse” (i.e., “less state, 
less tax”). Even in the last election campaign of 2013, the key promise 
he made was that he would cut, or even abolish, property tax on houses 
(known in Italian by its initials as IMU). He has always promised vot¬ 
ers that he would pursue laissez-faire politics by reducing the power of 
the state in society and by cutting public expenditure (e.g., on public 
education and the healthcare system). 

Presenting himself as the champion of laissez-faire economics in a 
populist fashion, Berlusconi guaranteed that he would provide the strong 
and autocratic leadership necessary to support that cause. This aspect of 
his profile is also consistent with another important political stand of his 
electorate: belief in the need for a powerful leader able to solve the prob¬ 
lems of the country. Berlusconi was often portrayed to the electorate as 
being more innovative, dynamic, dominant, and energetic than Prodi, the 
leader of the left-wing coalition (Caprara and Vecchione, 2006). From 
the point of view of his electorate, decision-making in parliamentary 
democracy is slow and ineffective, and a centralized political leadership 
is seen as much more desirable. Berlusconi has often expressed his inten¬ 
tion to centralize power and politics in his hands, often framed as at 
the expense of parliament and political parties. This kind of leadership, 
however, was often demanded by Berlusconi’s supporters themselves, in 
order to ensure social stability and respect for the law, in contrast, in 
their opinion, to the deviant groups that cause criminality (such as immi¬ 
grants) or that are the enemy of personal freedom (such as communists 
and political extremists). 

Certainly, the anticommunist claims of Berlusconi’s rhetoric are shared 
by his supporters and appear to play a crucial role in understanding 
his political success. In fact, Berlusconi has always framed his politi¬ 
cal discourse by referring to two distinct, opposing, and irreconcilable 
sides between which the people are urged to choose (e.g., Berlusconi, 
2001; Bolasco, Giuliano, and Galli de Paratesi, 2006). 2 In doing this, he 

2 For example, in a very famous speech delivered in Milan in 2000, Berlusconi declared, 
“The choice that you must make is the choice between two Italies, between two different 
conceptions of humanity, of society, of the state: the choice between the Italy of taxes 


Those who supported Berlusconi 


159 


emphasized the distinction between “us” and “them.” “Them” (the 
enemy) is the entire left wing, described as a homogeneous out-group, 
completely identified with the communists and the extremists. This 
opposing side is always presented as evoking evil consequences (e.g., 
insecurity, unemployment, taxes, hate, the end of individual freedom). 
In this way Berlusconi has effectively managed to attract and persuade 
the ideologically anticommunist, right-wing electorate. 

Last but not least, voters for Berlusconi’s right-wing coalition scored 
higher on ethnocentrism, as they were against immigration policies and 
had anti-immigrant attitudes. This is not surprising, though, as higher 
scores on RWA and SDO were consistently associated with prejudice 
(e.g., Altemeyer, 1996; Duckitt et al., 2002). Anti-immigration rhetoric 
was not indeed crucial in Berlusconi’s ideology; he has often adopted 
a functionalist approach to the question. That is, in Berlusconi’s view, 
immigrants are welcome if they can help the Italian economy by their 
work, provided that they are guests in the country with permission 
to stay (Berlusconi, 2001). However, anti-immigration policies were 
pivotal for two important parties in Berlusconi’s coalition - namely, 
Lega Nord (“Northern League”) and Alleanza Nazionale (“National 
Alliance” - merged in 2008 with Forza Italia into Popolo delle Liberta 
(“People of Freedom”)). 


Values 

Political messages, beliefs, and ideologies are often constructed around 
a set of key symbols and values that are both cognitively and emotively 
salient. Values are deemed to reflect the needs and wishes of individ¬ 
uals and groups, and can be defined as broad goals to which people 
attribute importance as guiding principles in their lives (e.g., Rokeach, 
1973; Schwartz, 1992). Values are consistent and relatively stable across 
a variety of situations, circumstances, and domains. They shape attitudes 
and behaviors, and for this reason are considered to provide the under¬ 
lying basis (often implicit) of individuals’ decisions and attitudes. With 
respect to ideologies and beliefs, values are theoretically placed at a more 
abstract level. 

A recent comprehensive and established theoretical framework is the 
motivational theory of basic human values of Schwartz (1992, 2005). 
This author distinguishes ten motivational types of values: universalism, 


that are unjust and too many, of insecurity, of fear, and of unemployment; between the 
Italy that only knows how to forbid, to condemn, and to hate, and another Italy, our 
Italy, that knows how to love. This is the Italy that I have in mind” (Berlusconi, 2001). 


160 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


Table 9.3 Values and their underlying motivational goals according to 
Schwartz (1992) 


Values and motivational goals 


Examples 


Power, social status and prestige, control or 
dominance over people and resources 

Achievement, personal success through 
demonstrating competence according to 
social standards 

Hedonism : pleasure and sensual gratification 
for oneself 

Stimulation: excitement, novelty, and challenge 
in life 

Self-direction: independent thought and action - 
choosing, creating, exploring 

Universalism: understanding, appreciation, 
tolerance, and protection of the welfare 
of all people and of nature 

Benevolence: preservation, and enhancement of the 
welfare of people with whom one is in frequent 
personal contact 

Tradition: respect, commitment, and acceptance of 
the customs and ideas that traditional culture or 
religion provide the self 

Conformity: restraint of actions, inclinations, and 
impulses likely to upset or harm others and 
violate social expectations or norms 

Security: safety, harmony, and stability of society, 
of relationships, and of the self 


Likes to be in charge and tell 
others what to do 
Being very successful 


Wants to enjoy life 

Looks for adventures and likes to 
take risks 

Thinks it is important to be 
interested in things 

Wants everyone to be treated 
justly 

Very important to care for the 
people one knows and likes 

Wants to follow customs and 
traditions 

Thinks people should follow rules 
at all times 

Important to live in secure 
surroundings 


benevolence , tradition , conformity , security , power , achievement , hedonism , 
stimulation , and self-direction (see Table 9.3 for definitions). They are 
organized along a two-dimensional, circumplex structure. These two 
orthogonal dimensions are “openness to change versus conservatism” 
and “self-transcendence versus self-enhancement.” 

Barnea and Schwartz (1998) found that, excluding religious parties, 
values such as tradition, conformity, and security characterize a conserva¬ 
tive orientation, while self-direction, hedonism, and stimulation are more 
related to a liberal orientation. Similarly, in an Italian sample, right-wing 
(vs. left-wing) voters were found to be higher in security, power, achieve¬ 
ment, conformity, and tradition, and lower in universalism, benevolence, 
and self-direction (Caprara et al. 3 2006). Values are also related to social 
attitudes such as RWA and SDO, whose motivational bases emerged as 







Those who supported Berlusconi 


161 


being partially different from each other (Cohrs, Moschner, Maes et al., 
2005). RWA related more strongly than SDO to conservation values as 
an expression of the motivational goals of social control and security. 
Conversely, RWA and SDO related equally to self-enhancement versus 
self-transcendence values. 

In this theoretical perspective, we aimed to investigate the motivational 
underpinnings of Berlusconi’s supporters: our research questions were, 
what do they pursue and what are their guiding principles? Therefore, 
the Portrait Value Survey that assesses the ten values of the Schwartz 
model (Schwartz, Melech, Lehmann et al., 2001) was administered to 
1,188 participants (587 men; 598 women; 3 participants were excluded 
for failing to report their gender; mean age = 34.5 years). The survey 
was conducted in 2007, and participants were asked to report which 
coalition they had voted for at the last national election held in 2006. In 
this sample, 559 reported that they had voted for a party of the right- 
wing coalition that supported Berlusconi (Casa delle Liberta - CdL), and 
630 for a party of the left-wing coalition that supported Prodi (Unione). 
Multivariate and univariate analysis showed that those who voted for 
the Berlusconi coalition (CdL) were significantly higher than the left- 
wing voters in the values of stimulation, achievement, power, and secu¬ 
rity. On the other hand, Berlusconi’s voters were significantly lower than 
left-wingers in the values of benevolence and universalism. These results 
were found while controlling for demographics such as gender, age, and 
education. 

We can say that the individuals who voted for the CdL coalition have 
as their primary motivation the realization of personal success, aiming at 
social status and prestige, to be obtained mainly through control or dom¬ 
inance over people and resources. Similarly, they tend to give very much 
importance to tradition, stability, and respect for social norms. They 
appear very committed to the customs and ideas of traditional culture 
or religion, and very concerned about the safety and the stability of their 
society. They severely condemn deviants and violators of expectations or 
norms. On the other hand, they appear to be less interested in and less 
guided by principles that stress understanding, appreciation, tolerance, 
and protection of all people and nature. 

These are exactly some of the values that Berlusconi personally embod¬ 
ies. In fact, a very common representation of Berlusconi is that of 
a self-made man who, from relatively modest origins, could reach an 
important position in society, both socially and financially, and who has 
even achieved political power and international prestige. He has stood 
as a symbol and example for many people. Moreover, in his political 


162 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


speeches, he has always stressed traditional and religious values, and 
national strength and order (Bolasco et al., 2006). 3 

In fact, Berlusconi’s political oratory often appeals to the values of 
conservation (i.e., tradition, conformity, and security), he himself person¬ 
ifying the self-enhancement values (i.e., power and achievement). In this 
way he has been able to achieve a reasonable match between himself, his 
political discourse, and the values of his electorate, and has built a corre¬ 
spondence between his ideological stands and the motivating standards 
and guiding principles of his supporters. Moreover, by reserving for him¬ 
self the values of tradition and security and ascribing to his opponents 
the burdens of uncertainty, division, poverty, hate, and the like, Berlus¬ 
coni has usually also appealed to the epistemic motives of the right-wing 
electorate - namely, the need for security and avoidance of uncertainty 
(e.g., Jost et al., 2003). The fact that, over the long term, Berlusconi has 
not kept his political promises and, above all, that his public image has 
fallen short of the traditional values he has claimed to advocate, could 
reasonably explain his eventual partial political decline. 

It is worth noting that the values and attitudes of Berlusconi’s support¬ 
ers are common among conservative supporters in Western societies. 
What appears peculiar is the match between Berlusconi’s charismatic, 
dominant, dynamic, strong, and tenacious personality (Caprara and Vec¬ 
chione, 2006) and his skill in interpreting and giving voice to the attitudes 
and actions of those Italians who have constituted a great part of his elec¬ 
toral base. In fact, Berlusconi has shown an indubitable talent in build¬ 
ing a match between his political communication and populist claims 
and the expectations and the psychological needs of his followers. Other 
successful conservative figures of the past (such as Margaret Thatcher 
or Ronald Reagan) surely showed a clear mastery of subtle communi¬ 
cation skills. Nonetheless, Berlusconi appears to have gone beyond the 
style and qualities of the “Great Communicator,” making it possible for 
his electoral base to identify with a character that might have been per¬ 
ceived as aloof because of his great wealth, media power, and previous 


3 For example, in a very famous public speech delivered in Rome on December 2, 2006, 
Berlusconi claimed, “[W]e don’t like a mentality that devalues the family founded upon 
marriage and upon love between a man and a woman, upon the training of the children to 
freedom and responsibility. . . [W]e propose a society based on the values of Christianity, 
on the natural family founded upon marriage made by the union of a man and a woman, 
in which children are born and grow up. We propose an Italy that will be strong and 
respected all around the world. We propose a homeland that everybody identifies with 
and that everybody loves. .. Instead, the left-wing is preparing for Italy a future of 
uncertainty, of divisions, of social envy, of poverty. The Left is carrying out policies that 
destroy the family and do not respect the moral values of the Italian people, the values 
of our tradition” (quoted in Bolasco et al., 2006). 


Those who supported Berlusconi 


163 


political connections starting in the late 1970s. Berlusconi did not appeal 
only to the supposed tendency of his electorate to show a submissive - 
but respectfully distant - devotion to their charismatic leader. He instead 
managed to make his character available as a model of identification for 
his supporters. 


Personality 

Personality can be defined as a self-regulatory system that is shaped 
dynamically by personal adaptations during the individual life span 
(Caprara and Cervone, 2000). This internal system is deemed to con¬ 
trol processes of the affective, cognitive, and motivational spheres, guid¬ 
ing people towards the achievement of individual and collective goals. 
Moreover, personality provides coherence and continuity in behavioral 
patterns across different settings, and generates and preserves a sense of 
personal identity (Bandura, 2001; Cervone and Pervin, 2009). 

Admittedly, personality does play a role in shaping ideological beliefs 
and attitudes (Jost et al., 2003). In this vein, personality traits proved to 
be important predictors of ideology and voting, and most of the recent 
research has been devoted to the relationship between the “Big Five” 
traits and political orientation. The openness factor appeared to be the 
most powerful predictor across the studies, left-wingers (or liberals) con¬ 
sistently scoring higher than right-wingers (or conservatives) in several 
different countries (Caprara et al., 1999; Jost et al., 2003; McCrae, 1996; 
Shoen and Shumann, 2007; van Hiel and Mervielde, 2004). Conscien¬ 
tiousness scores are generally higher among conservatives (vs. liberals), 
whereas higher agreeableness is usually found among liberals (vs. con¬ 
servatives) (Caprara et al., 1999; Gosling, Rentfrow, and Swann, 2003). 
Recent meta-analysis showed that RWA is mostly predicted by lower 
openness and higher conscientiousness, whereas SDO is mainly pre¬ 
dicted by lower agreeableness (Sibley and Duckitt, 2008). 

Less agreement can be found in the literature regarding the other 
personality traits. Shoen and Shumann (2007) reported a positive asso¬ 
ciation between neuroticism and liberals; this, however, was not found in 
previous research (e.g., Caprara et al., 2006; Gosling et al., 2003). Extro¬ 
version turned out to be rarely correlated to political orientation; never¬ 
theless, energy and dominance (extroversion components) were consis¬ 
tently associated with right-wing orientation in many studies (see Caprara 
and Zimbardo, 2004). 

With the growing interest in the moral and interpersonal dimen¬ 
sion of politics (Graham, Haidt, and Nosek, 2009; van Lange, 
Bekkers, Chirumbolo et al., 2012), recent studies have investigated the 


164 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


Table 9.4 The HEXACOpersonality traits (Ashton et a\., 2006 ; Lee and 
Ashton, 2004) 


Personality traits 

Definition 

Descriptors 

Honesty-humility 

Defined by characteristics such 
as honesty, fairness, sincerity, 
modesty, and lack of greed 

Sincere, loyal, generous, 
altruistic, honest, egoistic, 
hypocritical, lying, 
presumptuous, haughty 

Emotionality 

Defined by characteristics such 
as anxiety, fearfulness, 
sentimentality, dependence, 
and emotional reactivity vs. 
self-assurance, toughness, and 
bravery 

Emotional, vulnerable, 
anxious, fragile, fearful, 
secure, decisive, strong, 
courageous, independent 

Extroversion 

Defined by characteristics such 
as talkativeness, sociability, 
and cheerfulness vs. shyness, 
passivity, and quietness 

Extroverted, exuberant, 
expansive, open, vivacious, 
reserved, shy, silent, 
introverted, closed 

Agreeableness 

Defined by characteristics such 
as good-naturedness, 
tolerance, and agreeableness 
vs. temperamentalness, 
irritability, argumentativeness, 
and criticalness 

Peaceful, calm, mild, patient, 
tranquil, irritable, choleric, 
aggressive, litigious, irascible 

Conscientiousness 

Defined by characteristics such 
as organization, hard work, 
carefulness, perfectionism, 
and thoroughness 

Precise, orderly, diligent, 
methodical, conscientious, 
untidy, inconstant, imprecise, 
careless, rash 

Openness 

Defined by characteristics such 
as imagination, originality, 
creativity, unconventionality, 
rebelliousness, and 
inquisitiveness 

Progressive, eclectic, 

innovative, ironic, original, 
devout, traditionalist, puritan, 
servile, religious 


Note. The counter-trait descriptors are indicated in italics. 


relationship between personality traits and ideological orientation within 
the HEXACO model of personality (Ashton and Lee, 2007; Lee 
and Ashton, 2012). The HEXACO model of personality (Honesty- 
humility, Emotionality, Extroversion, Hgreeableness, Conscientiousness, 
and Openness) emerged from cross-cultural research on the personality 
lexicon conducted in different countries (Ashton, Lee, Perugini et al., 
2004; see Table 9.4 for a description of HEXACO traits). 

Extroversion, conscientiousness, and openness strongly recall the Big 
Five traits. These factors are believed to represent different degrees of 
engagement in three areas of functioning: social (i.e., extroversion), task 







Those who supported Berlusconi 


165 


(i.e., conscientiousness), and idea-related (i.e., openness to experience). 
The other three factors of HEXACO differ somewhat in their structure 
and meaning with respect to the corresponding Big Five traits. In addi¬ 
tion, the honesty-humility trait cannot by any means be interpreted as a 
rotational variant of the Big Five and indeed represents the real unique¬ 
ness of the model. 

The general trait of honesty-humility assesses the inclination not to 
exploit other individuals even when there is no risk of negative conse¬ 
quence for such exploitation (Ashton and Lee, 2007). It refers to dimen¬ 
sions of sincerity (i.e., tendency to be genuine in interpersonal relations), 
fairness (i.e., tendency to avoid fraud and corruption), greed avoidance 
(i.e., tendency to be uninterested in possessing wealth, luxury goods, 
and signs of high social status), and modesty (i.e., tendency to be modest 
and unassuming) (Lee and Ashton, 2004). In general, individuals high in 
honesty-humility tend to describe themselves as sincere, loyal, generous, 
altruistic, honest, faithful, helpful, undeceptive, and so on. On the other 
hand, individuals low in honesty-humility tend to depict themselves as 
egoistic, hypocritical, lying, presumptuous, haughty, deceitful, devious, 
greedy, crafty, cunning, pretentious, and so on (see Ashton, Lee, de Vries 
et al., 2006). 

Recent studies have pointed out that the honesty-humility factor 
turned out to be positively associated with left-wing orientation (Chirum- 
bolo and Leone, 2010; Zettler and Hilbig, 2010). Moreover, honesty- 
humility proved to be the second best personality predictor of voting 
(after openness), and the HEXACO factors as a whole surpassed the Big 
Five ones in predicting voting and ideology (Chirumbolo and Leone, 
2010). SDO appeared to be negatively predicted by lower honesty- 
humility, while RWA was mainly predicted by lower openness (Lee, Ash¬ 
ton, Ogunfowora et al., 2010). Furthermore, the relationships between 
personality traits and social attitudes appeared to be mediated by social 
worldviews (Leone et al., 2012). 

Within this theoretical framework, we aimed to investigate the person¬ 
ality profile of Berlusconi’s voters by mean of the HEXACO traits and 
its facets. Our research questions were, who are they and how do they 
describe themselves? For this purpose, the HEXACO-PI-R was admin¬ 
istrated to 279 participants (140 men, 139 women, average age = 37.77 
years) shortly after the national election of 2008. This instrument com¬ 
prises 192 items that measure the six personality factors in the model 
(see Lee and Ashton, 2004; Table 9.4 for description). 

In the election of 2008, two main parties competed. On the right- 
wing side was the Popolo delle Liberta (PdL; literally, “People of Free¬ 
dom”), Berlusconi’s new party that emerged from the merger of the two 


166 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


52 

51.5 
51 

50.5 
50 

49.5 
49 

48.5 
48 

47.5 
47 



PD_Left 

■ PdL_Berlusconi 


Figure 9.3 Personality profiles of the voters according to the HEXACO 
traits. H: honesty-humility; E: emotionality; X: extroversion; A: agree¬ 
ableness; C: conscientiousness; O: openness. 


most important parties of the right - namely, Forza Italia and Alleanza 
Nazionale. On the left-wing side was the Partito Democratico (PD) 
(“Democratic Party”). 4 These two parties conducted a protracted, and 
sometimes ruthless, electoral campaign that opposed the principles of 
the social democratic left-wing side to the principles of the Berlusconian 
right-wing side. In our sample, 126 participants reported voting for PdL 
and 153 for PD. 

With respect to the general HEXACO traits, the voters of these two 
opposing parties showed significant differences (see Figure 9.3). When 
we controlled for gender, age, and education, the supporters of Berlus¬ 
coni’s PdL turned out to be higher in extroversion and conscientiousness 
than supporters of the PD, and lower in honesty-humility and open¬ 
ness. Contrary to expectations and the findings of previous studies, the 
supporters of the left and the right did not differ in agreeableness. 

How did the supporters of Berlusconi describe themselves as compared 
to the supporters of the left-wing party? They scored higher on extrover¬ 
sion. Usually, such individuals feel positively about themselves, experi¬ 
encing feelings of energy; they feel confident when they are in the posi¬ 
tion of leading other individuals or groups, and they like social meetings 
and interactions. Berlusconi’s voters scored higher in conscientiousness, 

4 This party was formed in 2008 and stemmed from the merger of the Democratici di 

Sinistra (the left-wing party) and the Catholic party called Margherita. 















Those who supported Berlusconi 


167 


as characteristic of very organized and reliable persons. Typically, these 
people work very hard and discipline themselves to achieve their goals; 
they make a lot of effort for accuracy and perfection in their tasks, and 
tend to organize their time and their environment precisely. They scored 
lower on openness, which is known to be the best personality predictor 
of political orientation across culture. Persons with low scores on open¬ 
ness are not very interested in diverse forms of art, have less intellectual 
curiosity, feel little attraction to creative hobbies and activities, and tend 
to stay away from ideas, philosophies, and movements that may look 
radical or unconventional. Last but not least, supporters of Berlusconi’s 
party scored lower in honesty-humility. Lower scores on this scale are 
indicative of persons that recall the trait of Machiavellianism: they are 
probably disposed to flatter others to get what they want from them. 
Breaking rules for personal profit is not a problem for low scorers in 
honesty-humility. They are primarily motivated by material gain and feel 
a strong sense of self-importance. 

As for the value systems, it is apparent that these differences in traits 
between voters are in harmony with the lively, active, enterprising, status- 
oriented spirit of the Italian right wing, well represented by its leader 
Berlusconi, as opposed to the pluralistic, tolerant, and solidarity- and 
culture-oriented character of the Italian left wing. Some voters’ traits 
appear also to match well the character of Berlusconi himself and his 
public image of being hard working, socially overconfident, and auda¬ 
cious - anything but modest and unassuming - and inclined to violate 
rules and norms by exploiting antagonists in order to gain personal ben¬ 
efits and advantages. 


Rise and decline but no surrender 

Since his great electoral success in 2008 (PdL won 37.4% of the votes), 
Berlusconi has faced a period of difficulty and decline. In autumn 2010, 
a schism within his party began to cause great difficulty for his political 
majority in the parliament. From that moment, Berlusconi started to 
lose, gradually but inexorably, his political consensus, both in the parlia¬ 
ment and among his electorate. In May 2011, the right-wing coalition 
suffered a major defeat in the local elections. The electoral verdict in 
the city of Milan was emblematic. It directly concerned Berlusconi since 
he had personally run in the election as a candidate. In the end, his 
vote fell by 46.8% from that obtained in the previous city election of 
2006 (votes for him fell from 52,577 to 27,972). Under the strain of 
economic crisis and international pressures, Berlusconi decided to resign 



168 


Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone 


Table 9.5 Electoral performance of Berlusconi’s parties in the national 
elections since 1994 


Elections 

Party 

Percentage of votes 

Number of votes 

1994 

Forza Italia (FI) 

21.0 

8,136,135 

1996 

Forza Italia (FI) 

20.6 

7,712,149 

2001 

Forza Italia (FI) 

29.4 

10,921,335 

2006 

Forza Italia (FI) 

23.7 

9,045,384 

2008 

Popolo delle Liberta (PdL) 

37.4 

13,628,865 

2013 

Popolo delle Liberta (PdL) 

22.3 

6,829,135 


as prime minister in December 2011 since he was no no longer able to 
ensure a political majority within the parliament. 

Surprisingly, in December 2012, Berlusconi decided to run also in the 
national elections of 2013 as the major candidate of the PdL. Shortly 
after this announcement, Berlusconi’s party, which opinion polls had 
predicted would receive 15% of the votes, started to regain some of the 
consensus it had lost, and in this last election, his party got an unexpected 
22.3% of the votes. That means, however, that its share of the vote had 
decreased by 15.1% (falling from 37.4% in the 2008 election to 22.3%) 
and the number of its votes had fallen from 13,628,865 to 7,332,121. In 
2013, after he had been almost 20 years in the political arena, Berlusconi’s 
electoral consensus was at its minimum in absolute terms of votes (see 
Table 9.5). 

Nevertheless, despite this clear electoral defeat, Berlusconi was not 
perceived as being overthrown. Nowadays he still appears to be far from 
being out of the political scene. This is, firstly, because this result was 
by far better than all the analysts had expected before the election; and, 
secondly, because of the relatively poor performance of the center-left 
party (PD), 3 - and partly also because of the unexpected electoral success 
of the new party, the “Five Star Movement.” In an audacious electoral 
campaign, Berlusconi managed to bring his party back from near oblivion 
by restyling himself as an antiestablishment and antiausterity populist, 
and by promising to refund the homeownership tax, even offering to use 
his personal fortune to do so (cf. “Italy chooses none of the above,” 
2013). 


5 


The PD obtained an absolute majority of the parliamentary seats only in the lower house 
(the House of Deputies), but not in the Senate. 







Those who supported Berlusconi 


169 


Why have people continued to support Berlusconi 
over the years? 

One of the most intriguing questions, often asked by international polit¬ 
ical commentators, is why Berlusconi has enjoyed such a long polit¬ 
ical career and such electoral success despite his disregard of elec¬ 
toral promises, his prosecution by justice officers, and gossip about his 
immoral conduct. For many years, the scandals and the trials involving 
Berlusconi did not appreciably affect his popularity among the right-wing 
electorate. Only at the very end was this support noticeably reduced. 
However it has not completely faded yet, as the last national elections 
held in 2013 showed. This is a puzzling phenomenon for many interna¬ 
tional analysts who “have a hard time understanding why a media mogul 
who led Italy to the brink of bankruptcy in 2011, who is accused of tax 
fraud, Mafia associations, exploiting underage prostitutes and miscon¬ 
duct in public office, still manages to compete head to head in national 
elections” (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013). Paradoxically, Berlusconi’s 
strategic position on the conservative side is possibly even stronger, in 
view of the failure of conservative alternatives, and the weakening of its 
long-time ally, the Northern League. 

The reasons for this phenomenon are certainly many and very complex 
indeed. One speculation is that Berlusconi’s personal wealth, as one of 
the richest men in Italy, and his mass-media holdings (e.g., television 
stations, daily newspapers, magazines) have given him, since the 1980s, 
great influence and power in almost all aspects of Italian economic and 
political life. Hence, Berlusconi could persistently pursue and achieve 
his political and personal goals over the years, and remain on the wave 
crest despite the fact that he was politically defeated more than once. 
However, this alone is not sufficient to fully understand and account 
for Berlusconi’s success. The most crucial factor may be, instead, his 
ability to match his political communication and populist claims to the 
expectations and psychological needs of his followers. 

One of the main reasons why many people have supported Berlus¬ 
coni is mostly ideological in nature. As we noted, the largest part of his 
electorate hold typically right-wing beliefs and values and would never 
support or vote for the left-wing party, which they consider “the enemy” 
and “the evil.” Besides that, a large number of people and certain social 
strata have, of course, directly benefited from his political victories. Since 
1994, in fact, Berlusconi has nurtured a broad constituency among busi¬ 
nessmen, shopkeepers, the liberal professions, and entrepreneurs who 
have benefited from lax government regulations, remission of taxes, and 
the like. 


170 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


Berlusconi is perceived as the only true representative of the traditional 
values of the right. Historically, moreover, Italian voters have always been 
attracted by the strong man, the charismatic leader, who can straightfor¬ 
wardly solve the country’s problems (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013). 
The example of fascism and Mussolini is in that regard very self-evident. 
We noted that Berlusconi’s supporters fervently long for an autocratic 
and powerful leader. The psychological underpinnings of this standpoint 
can be found in their higher authoritarianism (e.g., social conformity and 
obedience to authority), lower openness, and higher need for security. 
At the same time, Berlusconi’s supporters are driven by standards of 
self-enhancement, power, achievement, and status seeking, whose psy¬ 
chological bases can be traced to their lower humility and higher SDO. 
In this regard, they do not appear very different from right-wing voters 
in other countries. However, as noted before, Berlusconi has shown him¬ 
self able to perfectly provide and fulfill these psychological instances in a 
populist and effective fashion, as no other political leader has apparently 
had the gift to do. Opponents and analysts that have often stigmatized 
Berlusconi’s inclination to break the rules of democracy did not take into 
account that his electorate was entirely behind this behavior. If anything, 
the fact that Berlusconi was finally unable to exert this sort of autocratic 
leadership can, to a certain extent, explain his loss of consensus among 
his electorate in the final months of his last government. 

Berlusconi always depicted the rise and coming to power of the “com¬ 
munist” left as fatal and disastrous - a real threat to freedom and to all 
Italian society. He has continually claimed to be the only leader able to 
prevent this. This harping on the “communist threat” has characterized 
Berlusconi’s political discourse in the last twenty years. This theme was 
pivotal even in the last electoral campaign, and he has constantly aimed to 
arouse feelings of fear, uncertainty, and insecurity among his electorate 
by warning of a future of unemployment, poverty, high taxes, lack of 
individual freedom, social disruption, and threat to the traditional way of 
life. It is well known that these perceptions of uncertainty, fear, and inse¬ 
curity are epistemic motivations connected to conservative ideology (see, 
e.g., Jost et al ., 2003). When such situations that evoke threat and fear 
are primed, they may cause a real shift of the electorate towards right- 
wing political beliefs (Nail and McGregor, 2009), even among those 
that define themselves as “liberals” (Nail, McGregor, Drinkwater et al ., 
2009). 

In this respect, Berlusconi’s voters (vs. left-wing voters) usually 
have lower epistemic motivations, scoring higher on the need for clo¬ 
sure and authoritarianism (Chirumbolo, 2002; Chirumbolo and Leone, 
2008) and lower on openness (Caprara et al ., 1999; Chirumbolo and 


Those who supported Berlusconi 


171 


Leone, 2010). Thus they appear to be particularly receptive to all these 
invocations of threat. From a psychological point of view, this means that, 
in summary, they tend to conform more to conventional ideas and behav¬ 
iors; to uncritically trust authority and leaders; to blame and devalue 
out-groups; to prefer simplicity to complexity; to desire stability, order, 
and predictability; to be less motivated to analyze information deeply; 
and to prefer the known and the established to the unknown and the 
radical. Accordingly, at least in part, these might also be the “psycho¬ 
logical” reasons why the largest part of the right-wing electorate keeps 
supporting Berlusconi despite the fact that, in most cases, his promises 
are never kept, and his ideological claims never translate into real life. 
Even though his arguments and communication strategy have lost part 
of their efficacy over the years, Berlusconi has shown that he can rely on 
“hard-core” supporters who will always vote for him, no matter what he 
does. These hard-core followers represent one-fifth of the eligible voters 
at the minimum, and they appear to be fascinated by the charismatic 
figure of a leader who is reassuring and promises progress and prosperity 
for all, finding this “strong man” attractive even when he cuts corners in 
the democratic process. The attractiveness of this “strong man” figure 
is not only determined by submissive authoritarians but also composed 
to some extent of a genuine identification with the leader. In this sense, 
the lack of a charismatic, authoritative challenger is another reason for 
Berlusconi’s enduring success (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013). Actually, 
it is evident that, in recent years, no other Italian political leader of either 
the right or the left has been able to attract mass consensus for such a 
long time as has Berlusconi. 

Finally, Berlusconi’s trials and scandals appeared to have eroded, but 
not completely eclipsed, his popularity. How could this be? An explana¬ 
tion may be provided by one of the most important personality predictors 
of political voting - namely, honesty-humility (see also Chirumbolo and 
Leone, 2010). As a political candidate, Berlusconi is often rated as hav¬ 
ing more leadership and innovativeness but less integrity and reliability 
than, for instance, his competitor, Prodi. This would indicate that vot¬ 
ers are sufficiently aware that Berlusconi is not a champion of integrity. 
Considering that Berlusconi’s supporters typically score lower on the 
honesty-humility factor, we could also speculate that possibly the moral 
sphere is not the primary dimension on which the right-wing electorate 
are apt to evaluate Berlusconi and his suitability as a candidate, other 
dimensions being more important. Therefore, to some extent, scandals 
and trials have not decreased his popularity too much. Many Italians 
clearly do not like him because of his unethical and often immoral con¬ 
duct. However, many people are still sympathetic to him, or simply do 


172 


Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone 


not care, so that this disapproval has not fatally damaged him in political 
terms. Why? Individuals with lower scores for honesty-humility tend to 
be lower in sincerity, fairness, and modesty, and see increased opportu¬ 
nities for personal gain from the exploitation of others. Moreover, low- 
honesty-humility individuals are also higher in Machiavellianism, and 
that means higher in manipulativeness, mendaciousness, and callous¬ 
ness (Lee and Ashton, 2005). Violating rules is perceived as legitimate 
if necessary to pursue one’s own goals. Probably, Berlusconi’s follow¬ 
ers strongly identify with their successful leader, considering him simply 
“smarter” than other people. They would possibly act in the same way if 
they were in his place - a matter of “elective affinity.” 

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199-221. 



10 A growing confidence gap in politics? 
Data versus discourse 


Rudy B. Andeweg 


By almost any measure, public confidence and trust in, and support 
for, politicians, political parties, and political institutions has eroded 
over the past generation. (Dalton, 2004, p. 191) 

I use the word “erosion” deliberately. This word seems to best express 
the phenomenon of mistrust in advanced democracies. The words dis¬ 
illusion, disenchantment, malaise, used by some authors, seem insuffi¬ 
cient to describe it. On the contrary, the words crisis, delegitimization 
and pathology, used by some observers, seem excessive. 

(Dogan, 2005, p. 12) 

The most interesting phenomenon, however, is the strength and tenacity 
of the policy discourse on a decline in citizens’ trust in the public sector. 
The indicators do not show a decline in public trust in the public 
sector, yet it is quite generally believed by policy-makers there is such a 
decline. (van de Walle, van Roosbroek, and Bouckaert, 2008, pp. 61—2) 

[PJublic support for the political system has not eroded consistently in 
established democracies, not across a wide range of countries around 
the world. The “crisis” myth, while fashionable, exaggerates the extent 
of political disaffection and too often falls into the dangers of fact-free 
hyperbole. (Norris, 2011, p. 241) 


A growing gap between citizens and politicians? 

The long-term expansion of government responsibilities has not 
kept pace with governments’ capacity to perform, and the resulting 
“overload” is fueling citizens’ disaffection with an ineffective public sec¬ 
tor. The post-war education boom has turned gullible and deferential 


I am indebted to the European Commission for access to the results of the Eurobarometer 
surveys 1 (spring 1974) to 77 (spring 2012), and to the European Social Survey and the 
Norwegian Social Science Data Services for access to the data of ESS Rounds 1 (2002, 
edition 6.3), 2 (2004, edition 3.3), 3 (2006, edition 3.4), 4 (2008, edition 4.1), and 5 
(2010, edition 3.0). I thank Jacques Thomassen, Joop van Holsteyn, and the editors of this 
volume for their comments and suggestions. 


176 



A growing confidence gap in politics? 


177 


subjects into politically sophisticated and critical citizens, who easily 
see through politicians’ empty promises. The end of the Cold War has 
deprived us of a deterrent alternative, finally allowing us to focus on 
the shortcomings of our own political authorities. The alleged causes 
and their timing may vary, but it is hard to find a democratic country 
where political pundits and politicians have not commented recently on 
“a legitimacy crisis,” “a Politikverdrossenheit,” “a democratic malaise,” or 
“a widening confidence gap.” 

This confidence gap between citizens and politics surfaces at least as 
regularly in political commentaries as the elusive Loch Ness Monster 
used to in other sections of the newspapers. To a certain extent the 
gap is more real than the monster. It is an inevitable side effect of any 
representative democracy. Etymologically, “‘representation’ means ‘re¬ 
presentation,’ a making present of something absent - but not making 
it literally present. It must be made present indirectly, through an inter¬ 
mediary; it must be present in some sense, while nevertheless remaining 
literally absent” (Pitkin, 1969, p. 16). This ambiguity creates a tension 
between the principal and the agent and, in that sense, representation pre¬ 
supposes a gap. Ever since Edmund Burke and John Stuart Mill, political 
philosophers have debated the appropriate distance between citizens and 
their representatives. In addition, representative politics is competitive: 
elections produce winners and losers, and voters on the losing side obvi¬ 
ously have less confidence in the new government than those who voted 
for the winners - a point to which I shall return. The issue, therefore, 
is not whether a confidence gap exists, but whether the gap has been 
widening in recent decades. 

Only a small number of empirical studies claim that this is indeed 
the case. Mair (2006) presents time-series data in support of his claim 
that “citizens are heading for the exits of the national political arena” 
(p. 44): declining party membership, declining turnout at elections, and 
increasing ticket-splitting (i.e., voting for different parties when elections 
for different offices are held at the same time) and volatility (i.e., voting 
for different parties in consecutive elections) in Western Europe. The 
trends, especially since the 1980s, are not in dispute, although the drops 
in turnout in national elections are still modest, and although there are 
exceptions (such as party membership rates in relatively young democ¬ 
racies). The interpretation of these trends as symptoms of citizen disil¬ 
lusionment, however, is questionable. Inferring motives from behavior is 
never straightforward, and here alternative explanations seem to be more 
plausible. 

Political parties, for example, are not the only organizations losing 
members: trade unions, churches, service clubs, etc., are all suffering the 


178 Rudy B. Andeweg 


same fate. There is a general trend of individualization affecting political 
and nonpolitical organizations indiscriminately. With regard to declining 
voter turnout, often cited as a symptom of the confidence gap, it appears 
that the group of hard-core nonvoters, who never vote, is quite small. We 
find many more occasional nonvoters, and the reasons that they them¬ 
selves offer for their abstention vary greatly, from nonpolitical reasons 
(forgot; lost voter registration card; had illness; was abroad) to political 
reasons (wasted vote, i.e., the party of preference stands no chance in 
the voter’s electoral district; lack of importance of election, etc.). What 
seems to emerge is that modern (individualized and better-educated) 
voters are making a deliberate decision to participate or to abstain on 
the basis of what is at stake and what is on offer. Elections for the Euro¬ 
pean Parliament, for example, are widely perceived as “second-order 
elections,” which do not decide the composition of any government, and 
in which there are no great differences between the parties. As a conse¬ 
quence, turnout in European elections is considerably lower than turnout 
in national elections, although at that level sizeable fluctuations can be 
observed, depending on the closeness and perceived importance of the 
election. It is even less clear why increasing volatility and ticket-splitting 
point to disengagement of citizens. Mair argues that “inconsistency goes 
hand in hand with indifference” (2006, p. 38), but in many countries 
the ideological and sociological differences between political parties are 
fading, making it increasingly hard for voters to make a choice - and at 
the same time making it easier to make a different choice in different elec¬ 
tions. In addition, the decline of voter loyalty can be seen as yet another 
consequence of individualization, in which voters are freed of their sub¬ 
cultural shackles (of social class or church) and start to make their own 
choices, with or without the assistance of voter aid applications. 

Others look at attitudes rather than behavior. Dogan (2005) speaks of 
an “erosion of confidence in thirty European countries,” but he offers 
only cross-sectional, not longitudinal, data (from the third wave of the 
European Values Study, 1999-2000) as “evidence” of a decline of con¬ 
fidence in political institutions, political parties, and politicians. The 
strongest case for a long-term erosion of public support for politics is 
presented by Dalton (2004; also see Putnam, Pharr, and Dalton, 2000). 
Survey questions in the American National Election Study on whether 
the government can be trusted to make the right decisions, whether offi¬ 
cials care about ordinary people, and whether government actions benefit 
all, all show a downward trend since 1958. No data points are available 
before 1958, but, if we assume that 1958 represents not a peak but the 
edge of a plateau, there is an unmistakable secular decline until the late 
1970s, after which the figures show trendless fluctuation. Unfortunately, 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


179 


such a long time-series of truly comparable survey data is exceptional, 
and for other countries than the USA we only have sporadic evidence 
pre-dating the 1970s. In most countries, reliable time-series start only in 
the late 1960s and early 1970s and show ups and downs but no consis¬ 
tent trend, as do the American data for that period. It is to that period, 
roughly speaking 1970 to 2010, that comparative studies of political trust 
must confine themselves. 


Distinguishing democratic regime, institutions, and 
political actors 

So far, I have left the conceptualization rather vague. One of the prob¬ 
lems with a concept such as the “confidence gap” is that people can 
interpret it in very different ways and still agree that it exists and is grow¬ 
ing. Such different interpretations can even be contradictory: political 
alienation, indifference, lack of political interest, and political apathy all 
point to a withdrawal of citizens from political life, whereas political skep¬ 
ticism, radicalization, contestation, and protest behavior rather indicate 
a critical commitment to politics (Schedler, 1993). A lot of effort has 
been put into disentangling various concepts, and developing distinct 
operationalizations for them. Political trust has been distinguished from 
political efficacy, and within political efficacy two dimensions have been 
discerned: internal political efficacy, where the belief that one can play 
a meaningful political role is founded either on self-confidence (“People 
like me have no influence over government policies”) or on confidence 
in the responsiveness of the political system (“Members of Parliament 
are not interested in the opinions of ordinary people like me”). Some of 
these conceptually different variables appear to be highly interrelated, but 
the more practical problem is that in studying trends over time, we have 
to make do with the data that are available. The data have in common 
that they entail evaluations of the quality of democratic institutions and 
politicians, and all we can do is to be aware of the conceptual differences 
and the resulting biases that may contaminate our conclusions. 

Another problem is that the word “politics” (or “Washington,” “Brus¬ 
sels,” etc.) is used indiscriminately, without specifying what it is that 
people have evaluated positively or negatively. Most analyses follow Eas¬ 
ton’s (1965) conceptualization of political support as a dimension ranging 
from “diffuse” to “specific” support: 

Some types of evaluations are closely related to what the political authorities do 
and how they do it. Others are more fundamental in character because they are 
directed to basic aspects of the system. They represent more enduring bonds and 


180 Rudy B. Andeweg 


thereby make it possible for members to oppose the incumbents of offices and yet 
retain respect for the offices themselves, for the way in which they are ordered, 
and for the community of which they are a part. The distinction of roughly this 
sort I have called ‘specific’ as against ‘diffuse’ support. (Easton, 1975, p. 437) 

Norris, for example, distinguishes five components of political support: 
national identity, approval of regime principles (e.g., democratic ideals), 
evaluation of regime performance, confidence in regime institutions, and 
approval of incumbent officeholders (Norris, 2011, pp. 24-5). For the 
purpose of this chapter, I focus on the latter three: the satisfaction with 
the functioning of the national democratic system at the most diffuse 
level, trust in political institutions at the intermediate level, and trust in 
political actors at the most specific level. I have chosen these three levels 
primarily because longitudinal and comparative data are available for all 
three. 

Since 1974, the biannual Eurobarometer survey, commissioned by the 
EU Commission in all EU member states, has included the question, 
“On the whole, are you very satisfied, fairly satisfied, not very satisfied or 
not at all satisfied with the way democracy works in [your country]?” at 
least once in most years. This provides us with an unrivalled time-series 
spanning almost four decades for eight countries (Belgium, Denmark, 
(West) Germany, France, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, The Netherlands, 
and the UK), and shorter periods for a further eighteen countries. 

If we take all respondents from all EU member states together, the 
percentage reporting “very satisfied” fluctuates around 8% with about 
40% saying that they are “fairly” satisfied with the working of democracy 
in their own country. As the ratio between these two answering categories 
is relatively constant, I have combined the two into a single percentage 
as “satisfied.” Figure 10.1 shows an almost imperceptible increase in sat¬ 
isfaction with democratic functioning until autumn 1991, followed by a 
slump and a regaining of the previous high point in spring 1999. After 
autumn 2007, we witness another slow decline. We end the four decades 
with 51 % of Europeans satisfied with the functioning of democracy, 3 
percentage points higher than at the start of the time-series, in 1974. This 
is remarkable given the fact that the EU has expanded from nine coun¬ 
tries in 1974 to twenty-seven by 2012 (an additional member state was 
added in 2013). The nine countries at the start of the time-series are all 
established democracies. The inclusion of East Germany in 1990 and the 
enlargements of 2004 and 2007 have added primarily countries in which 
democracy is relatively new and not yet institutionalized. The different 
degrees of socialization in democratic politics are likely to result in differ¬ 
ent levels of satisfaction with the working of national democracy. Indeed, 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


181 



Figure 10.1 Satisfaction with the functioning of national democracy in 
EU member states, 1974-2012. Source: Eurobarometer. “S” denotes 
the spring survey of that year, “A” the autumn survey of that year for 
Figures 10.1-10.3. 


there is considerable variation with Denmark, in 2012, showing most 
satisfaction (87%) and Greece least satisfaction (15%). Denmark is fol¬ 
lowed closely by Sweden, Luxembourg, The Netherlands, and Finland. 
Greece is accompanied by Lithuania, Romania, Bulgaria, Portugal, and 
Hungary. Italy is the only country of the original member states show¬ 
ing a low satisfaction rate (27%). Because of the sizeable cross-country 
variation, two countries for which we have the complete time-series have 
been added to Figure 10.1: The Netherlands (high satisfaction) and Italy 
(low satisfaction). For The Netherlands, we see a clear upward trend 
in satisfaction with the functioning of democracy, from 52% satisfied 
in 1978 to 78% satisfied in 2012. There are considerable fluctuations 
around the trend line, but even the dip in satisfaction during “the long 
year 2002” (the rise of the populist leader Pirn Fortuyn and his assas¬ 
sination, followed by government instability) was still above the level of 
1974. Satisfaction with the functioning of Italian democracy shows even 
more fluctuation. The satisfaction rate in 2012 is exactly the same as that 
in 1974, but, despite the recent decline, here too the trend line over the 
whole period is upward. We see considerable variation between countries 
(higher satisfaction in established democracies and in countries with pro¬ 
portional representation: Aarts and Thomassen, 2008), and fluctuation 
over time, but the Eurobarometer data on satisfaction with the func¬ 
tioning of national democracy provide no support for the hypothesis of 
growing dissatisfaction with democratic politics. 

There is a caveat attached to that conclusion. One of the problems with 
the survey question about satisfaction with the functioning of democracy 













182 Rudy B. Andeweg 


is that it may not be interpreted literally by respondents, but may, rather, 
measure satisfaction with the incumbent government. In particular, there 
is a risk that respondents who have voted for a governing party are more 
satisfied than respondents who voted for a party that ended up on the opp¬ 
osition benches. In July 1987, half of the national samples in the Euro¬ 
barometer were asked a different question: “Some people are for the 
present government in [your country]. Others are against it. Putting aside 
whether you are for or against the present government, on the whole, are 
you very satisfied, fairly satisfied, not very satisfied, or not at all satisfied 
with the way democracy works in [your country].” The two questions 
did not produce significantly different results (Andeweg, 1996, p. 161). 
However, in 1986, the EU consisted of mostly well-established democ¬ 
racies. Later studies found a considerable “winner-loser gap” in the new 
democracies in Central and Eastern Europe (Anderson et al., 2005, pp. 
90-119; Linde and Ekman, 2003). The effect on satisfaction of having 
voted for the incumbent governing parties or not has also been found 
to be larger in majoritarian democracies than in consensus democracies, 
consistent with the fact that in the former type of democracy a change 
of incumbents often marks a wholesale shift in policy (Anderson and 
Guillory 1997; Anderson, Blais, Bowler et al., 2005, pp. 120-40; but see 
Norris, 2011, pp. 209-13).The gap is also larger in countries that have 
been governed by the same party for a prolonged period of time: repeated 
losing corrodes support (Anderson et al., 2005, pp. 60-5). In general, 
however, the size of the difference in satisfaction between winners and 
losers is relatively stable. If it had grown over the past decades, that would 
have been a sign of a widening confidence gap, but there is no sign of 
that. 

As we move from diffuse support to specific support, the impact of the 
winner-loser gap on the confidence in political institutions and actors 
is likely to be stronger. Since 1997, the Eurobarometer survey has reg¬ 
ularly included the question, “I would like to ask you a question about 
how much trust you have in certain institutions. For each of the fol¬ 
lowing institutions, please tell me if you tend to trust it or tend not 
to trust it.” One of the political institutions of which this question is 
asked is the national government, but in that context it may just as easily 
be interpreted as trust in the governing parties or politicians. For that 
reason I have opted for trust in the national parliament (see also van 
der Meer and Dekker, 2011, p. 97). It seems more likely that respon¬ 
dents have this institution in mind when reporting trust or mistrust, but 
as parliament is composed in large part of politicians from parties for 
which the respondent did not vote, the question may be underestimating 
trust. For the USA in particular, it has been found that citizens distrust 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


183 



Figure 10.2 Trust in the national parliament in EU member states, 
1997-2012. Source: Eurobarometer. 


Congress, while trusting their own congressman (I return to the distinc¬ 
tion between individuals composing a category and the category itself 
below). This may help explain why in twenty-one of the twenty-seven EU 
member states in 2012, more people distrusted than trusted their national 
parliament. 

In Figure 10.2, we present the development in the percentage that 
tends to trust parliament from 1997 to 2012 for the EU as such, and 
for The Netherlands and Italy. Unfortunately, there are gaps in the time- 
series, most notably from 1997 to 1999, but it would seem that for 
the EU member states taken together, trust in parliaments remained 
relatively stable until 2003, and declined slightly in the following decade. 
This decline is largely due to the enlargement of the EU, many of the 
new member states showing low confidence in the newly democratized 
parliaments: Lithuania (7% trust in 2012), the Czech Republic (9% 
trust), and Latvia (12% trust), etc. At the other end of the spectrum, 
we find Sweden leading the confidence tables with 70% tending to trust 






















184 Rudy B. Andeweg 


parliament, and most of the established West European democracies well 
above the EU average. 

This is not the whole explanation, however, as Italy, a founding mem¬ 
ber of the EU and an established democracy, had the EU’s second lowest 
percentage of trust in parliament in 2012 (8%). Confidence in parlia¬ 
ment in Italy had increased slightly to about the EU average, but in 
2007 and, in particular, in 2011, it started to fall away. It is likely that 
the combination of political scandal and financial crisis, culminating in 
the appointment of the technocratic Monti cabinet in November 2011, 
has negatively affected trust in the Italian parliament as a democratic 
institution. At least, if we compare the Italian development with trust in 
parliament in The Netherlands, we see a pronounced dip during “the 
long year 2002,” but the subsequent recovery has restored confidence 
in the Dutch parliament to just below the previous level. Of the fifteen 
member states for which we have the complete time-series, seven showed 
more trust in 2012 than in 1997, and eight showed a decline in trust. 
The most substantial increases in confidence in parliament are regis¬ 
tered in Belgium (+26 percentage points) and Sweden (+22 percentage 
points); the largest declines are found in Greece (-39 percentage points) 
and Spain (-37 percentage points). The UK presents the clearest case 
of eroding confidence in parliament in a well-established democracy: the 
percentage trusting parliament was halved from 46% in 1997 to 23% in 
2012. This is likely to be related to several scandals such as the cash-for- 
questions affair (which started earlier, but culminated in a report on Stan¬ 
dards in Public Life in 1997) and the parliamentary expenses scandal in 
2009. 

Controlling for composition effects (such as countries having different 
average education levels), the variation in trust in parliament among 
countries is in large part explained by the same factors that account for 
satisfaction with the functioning of democracy: the age of the democratic 
system (the older the more trust), the electoral system (proportional 
representation engendering more trust), and corruption (the less the 
more trust). Curiously, economic performance has little impact on trust 
in parliament (van der Meer, 2010). 

The pattern is clearly less positive than with regard to satisfaction with 
the working of democracy, but the fluctuations and differences between 
countries point more towards rational evaluations of specific circum¬ 
stances than towards a secular and overall decline of trust in the national 
parliament. 

Finally, we turn to the most specific form of political support: trust 
in political actors. Note that we also shift from the singular (the demo¬ 
cratic system, the national parliament) to the plural (parties, politicians). 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


185 


In elections, citizens are asked to distinguish between several political 
actors, whereas, unfortunately, all trust indicators treat them as a single 
category or political class. People are bound to trust some parties and 
politicians more and others less, and it is unknown how this affects their 
replies to survey questions about confidence in a whole category of politi¬ 
cal actors. It is most likely that the judgment of a category is more negative 
than the judgment of an individual representing that category would be. 
This is what Sears refers to as the “person-positivity bias” (Sears, 1983), 
but we do not know whether the distinction is between categories and real 
human beings, as Sears suggests, or between categories and those indi¬ 
vidual elements (humans or organizations such as parties) to which one 
is ideologically close (Nilsson and Ekehammar, 1987). All we can hope 
for is that whatever bias results from the inadequate question wording 
is a constant, and does not affect any development over time. A second 
problem is that we lack truly comparable data over an extended period of 
time for individual politicians. Such data are available for trust in polit¬ 
ical parties. In most European countries, political parties dominate the 
political arena. Despite the widespread impression of a “personalization” 
of electoral politics, the impact of party still outweighs that of the party 
leader or individual candidates in determining the voter’s choice (e.g., 
Karvonen, 2010). 

From Figure 10.3 it is clear that trust in political parties as a category 
of political actors is quite low in EU member states with an EU average 
of 18% expressing confidence in 2012. Although other social organiza¬ 
tions occasionally elicited less trust in a particular country when this was 
measured (in particular, religious organizations and big companies), in 
all countries for most of the time the lowest percentages of trust were reg¬ 
istered for political parties. The variation is considerable, however, with 
the proportion of the population trusting political parties in 2012 rang¬ 
ing from 42% in Denmark and Sweden to a mere 4% in Italy. Trust in 
parties is generally low in the newly democratized member states, where 
the legacy of party dictatorship is likely to have affected the reputation 
of parties generally. It is less clear why the percentage trusting parties is 
also lower than the European average in the UK (15% in 2012). For our 
purpose, the development of confidence in political parties over time is 
more important and here we see fluctuation but no clear downward trend 
in the fifteen years for which we have data. Again, The Netherlands (as 
an example of relatively high trust) and Italy (as an example of relatively 
low trust) are included. The ups and downs in these individual countries 
seem more related to political events (the 2002 dip in The Netherlands, 
the downward slide in recent years in Italy) than to any long-term change 
in the evaluation of political parties as such. 


186 Rudy B. Andeweg 



Figure 10.3 Trust in political parties in EU member states, 1997-2012. 
Source: Eurobarometer. 


For eight of the fifteen countries for which we have measurements for 
the entire time period, trust in parties was more widespread in 2012 than 
it was in 1997, with substantial increases of more than 20 percentage 
points in countries such as Belgium, Finland, and Sweden. The largest 
drops between 1997 and 2012 were registered in Greece (13 percentage 
points) and Italy (9 percentage points). 

Even if political parties are the primary political actors in most modern 
democracies, it may be argued that trust in organizations such as parties 
is not the same thing as trust in real human beings such as politicians. The 
European Social Survey has included identical questions about trust in 
political parties and trust in politicians in five waves of surveys in various 
European countries between 2002 and 2010: “Using this card, please 
tell me on a score of 0-10 how much you personally trust each of the 
institutions I read out. ‘0’ means you do not trust an institution at all, 
and TO’ means you have complete trust.” The two variables appear to 
be strongly correlated (Pearson’s r is .885** in the 2010 survey): “The 
mean value of, and the variance in, trust in political parties and trust in 
politicians are indeed very similar, which could indicate that citizens do 




















A growing confidence gap in politics? 


187 


n-r 

2004 


"i-r 

2006 


n-r 

2008 


2002 


2010 


■16 countries -Netherlands 


■ Germany 


Figure 10.4 Trust in politicians in sixteen European countries, 2002- 
10. Source: European Social Survey. 


not make a distinction between political parties and politicians” (Marien, 
2011, p. 19). Figure 10.4 presents the development of mean trust in 
politicians in the sixteen European countries in which the European 
Social Survey has been held all five times. 1 As Italy is not among these 
countries, Germany replaces Italy in Figure 10.4 as the example of a 
low-trust country. 

The mean score for trust in politicians in these countries is at or just 
below 4 on an 11-point scale. Again, we find the familiar pattern of vari¬ 
ation. The highest mean trust was registered in Denmark in 2006 and 
2008 (5.61), with The Netherlands, Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, and 
Finland also showing comparatively high levels of trust. The lowest mean 
trust for these sixteen countries was found in Poland in 2004 (1.92), with 
Portugal, Slovenia, and Hungary displaying only marginally higher trust. 
Of the established democracies, levels of trust are lowest in Germany, 
the UK, and France. The European Social Survey spans a relatively 
short period, but, for what it is worth, there is no overall decline of trust 
in politicians in these nine years. The Netherlands even shows a mod¬ 
est upward trend, but this is exceptional and may simply represent the 

1 Belgium, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Fiungary, Ireland, The Netherlands, 
Norway, Poland, Portugal, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK. 

















188 Rudy B. Andeweg 


recovery after the dip in 2002 that we see in most trust-related variables 
for The Netherlands. 


Within-country variation 

So far, this chapter has focused on differences in political trust between 
levels (highest for the democratic regime, lowest for political actors) 
over time (fluctuation but no secular downward trend), and in partic¬ 
ular across countries (lower in young democracies, and in countries with 
a majoritarian rather than a proportional electoral system). The empha¬ 
sis on between-country variation follows from the fact that the politi¬ 
cal institutions, parties, and politicians operate primarily at the national 
level. However, within-country variation in political trust is higher than 
between-country variation as the example of trust in parliament shows 
(Figure 10.5; also see Rose and Mishler, 2011, p. 125). 

The difference in trust between those who voted for the incum¬ 
bent government and those who voted for one of the parties in oppo¬ 
sition has already been mentioned. There is less evidence of a more 
broadly defined winner-loser gap in terms of higher levels of trust among 
dominant social groups (but see Zmerli and Newton, 2011). For exam¬ 
ple, among respondents in the twenty-seven countries that were included 
in the 2010 European Social Survey, 2 noncitizens and, to a lesser extent, 
members of ethnic minorities show similar or even higher mean trust in 
parliament, parties, and politicians (Table 10.1). Female respondents do 
show slightly lower levels of political trust than males but the difference 
is very small, and it is even reversed in some countries. The clearest 
indication of a difference between less advantaged and more advantaged 
people in terms of political trust is related to an individual’s socioeco¬ 
nomic position. The less educated are less trustful of political institutions 
and actors than the better educated. The difference between the mean 
score for trust in parliament among respondents with the lowest level 
of education (lower than secondary education) and respondents with 
the highest level (master’s degree and higher) is 0.79 point on an 11- 
point scale; for trust in parties this difference is 0.49, and for trust in 
politicians 0.58. However, the lowest level of trust is not found among 
the lowest educated, but halfway on the scale (4: upper tier, upper 
secondary education), and the highest trust is not found among the 


Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, 
France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Israel, Lithuania, The Netherlands, Nor¬ 
way, Poland, Portugal, Russia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Ukraine, 
and the UK. 


2 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


189 


10.00 

8.00 

6.00 


4.00 

2.00 

0.00 


NB: o = mean trust; error bar = standard deviation; 

Figure 10.5 Variation in trust in Parliament within and across twenty- 
seven countries, 2010. Source: European Social Survey 5, 2010. 


n—i—i—i—i—i—i—i—r 


i——r. 

cfo* era* h- ' 


n r 
Z Z 


1 r - 

C/3 C/3 


i % 
5 


O O ffi 

C 
3 


3 — £ CT> 


(i o 2, 2 c 


C« 2 < < 

<; j_> *— >—• Q- n> C5 

to p, HQ B (1 3 


highest educated but just below, among those with a BA-level educa¬ 
tion). Moreover, in nearly half of the countries, the category with the 
lowest level of education is actually more trustful than their compatriots 
with the highest level of education. There are many new democracies 
among the countries with this reverse pattern, but also a few estab¬ 
lished democracies such as Germany and Switzerland. The evidence of 
a winner-loser gap is stronger if we compare those with paid work to 
those who are unemployed or disabled; the mean score on trust in parlia¬ 
ment is 0.81 lower among the unemployed, mean trust in parties is 0.56 
lower, and mean trust in politicians is 0.63 lower. And although there are 
countries with different patterns even here, the number of exceptions is 
quite small. 

































190 Rudy B. Andeweg 


Table 10.1 Demographic correlates of political trust (mean trust on a scale 
from 0 to 10) 



Trust in parliament 

Trust in parties 

Trust in politicians 

Citizen 




No 

4.71 (2.68) 

3.78 (2.48) 

3.85 (2.58) 


[1,812] 

[1,823] 

[1,864] 

Yes 

3.81 (2.59) 

3.12 (2.36) 

3.12 (2.38) 

Ethnic minority 

[49,066] 

[49,041] 

[49,286] 

Yes 

3.8 (2.82) 

3.18 (2.58) 

3.18 (2.6) 


[2,982] 

[2,985] 

[3,022] 

No 

3.87 (2.59) 

3.15 (2.35) 

3.15 (2.38) 

Gender 

[46,685] 

[46,686] 

[46,923] 

Female 

3.75 (2.55) 

3.11 (2.35) 

3.13 (2.38) 


[27,595] 

[27,596] 

[27,784] 

Male 

3.96 (2.66) 

3.17 (2.38) 

3.15 (2.41) 

Level of education 

[23,285] 

[23,267] 

[23,368] 

Lowest 

3.54 (2.66) 

2.86 (2.47) 

2.88 (2.53) 


[6,433] 

[6,484] 

[6,532] 

2 

3.73 (2.59) 

3.19 (2.42) 

3.15 (2.45) 


[8,658] 

[8,659] 

[8,731] 

3 

3.84 (2.51) 

3.22 (2.31) 

3.21 (2.37) 


[7,372] 

[7,395] 

[7,433] 

4 

3.53 (2.55) 

2.87 (2.31) 

2.84 (2.32) 


[11,597] 

[11,568] 

[11,616] 

5 

3.97 (2.61) 

3.26 (2.31) 

3.27 (2.35) 


[6,205] 

[6,180] 

[6,220] 

6 

4.47 (2.56) 

3.57 (2.34) 

3.6 (2.33) 


[4,587] 

[4,577] 

[4,588] 

Highest 

4.33 (2.63) 

3.35 (2.32) 

3.46 (2.34) 

Employment 

[5,806] 

[5,779] 

[5,808] 

Paid work 

4.0 (2.57) 

3.2 (2.33) 

3.21 (2.35) 


[23,585] 

[23,590] 

[23,677] 

Unemployed/ 

3.19 (2.54) 

2.64 (2.32) 

2.58 (2.33) 

disabled 

[4,806] 

[4,823] 

[4,853] 

Retired 

3.71 (2.65) 

3.1 (2.42) 

3.14 (2.46) 


[13,620] 

[13,526] 

[13,632] 

Other 

4.0 (2.58) 

3.31 (2.39) 

3.26 (2.41) 

Age 

[8,750] 

[8,811] 

[8,873] 

Up to 24 

4.13 (2.56) 

3.47 (2.38) 

3.36 (2.39) 


[6,162] 

[6,234] 

[6,284] 

25-34 

3.77 (2.55) 

3.03 (3.32) 

2.99 (2.33) 


[7,485] 

[7,507] 

[7,537] 



191 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 
Table 10.1 ( cont .) 



Trust in parliament 

Trust in parties 

Trust in politicians 

35-44 

3.83 (2.59) 

3.09 (2.34) 

3.1 (2.36) 


[8,286] 

[8,274] 

[8,298] 

45-54 

3.79 (2.61) 

3.04 (2.34) 

3.05 (2.35) 


[8,669] 

[8,672] 

[8,710] 

55-64 

3.79 (2.6) 

3.06 (2.35) 

3.11 (2.39) 


[8,630] 

[8,601] 

[8,647] 

65 and over 

3.83 (2.66) 

3.2 (2.43) 

3.25 (2.48) 

Religion 

[11,669] 

[11,596] 

[11,696] 

None 

4.02 (2.56) 

3.29 (2.33) 

3.27 (2.34) 


[18,030] 

[18,050] 

[18,129] 

Roman Catholic 

3.57 (2.45) 

2.84 (2.24) 

2.88 (2.29) 


[14,746] 

[14,818] 

[14,915] 

Protestant 

5.32 (2.33) 

4.5 (2.13) 

4.51 (2.16) 


[6,003] 

[5,986] 

[6,019] 

Eastern Orthodox 

2.82 (2.58) 

2.3 (2.34) 

2.28 (2.34) 


[7,779] 

[7,746] 

[7,770] 

Other 

3.87 (2.66) 

3.19 (2.44) 

3.2 (2.42) 


[3,937] 

[3,886] 

[3,937] 


Source: European Social Survey 5, 2010. 
( ) = standard deviation; [ ] = N. 


Of other demographic correlates of political trust, age has attracted 
some attention. If the young were less trustful, and if this could be shown 
to be a generation effect rather than a life-cycle effect, we should expect a 
widening confidence gap in future. However, Table 10.1 gives no reason 
for such concern. Levels of trust are actually highest among those younger 
than 25, and although there are several countries where the youngest age 
group is less trustful, the differences are quite small. 

Curiously, Protestants show substantially higher political trust than 
Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, and nonbelievers. Mean trust in par¬ 
liament is even 2.5 points (on an 11-point scale) higher among Protes¬ 
tants than among the Eastern Orthodox, and 1.75 points higher than 
among Roman Catholics. However, we are probably measuring more 
between-country than within-country variation here - most Protestants 
live in northern European countries where political trust is relatively 
high, and most Catholics live in southern or eastern European countries 
where political trust tends to be lower. In those countries with sizeable 
proportions of both denominations, the difference is marginal: Dutch 
Protestants have a mean trust in parliament of 5.47, against 5.41 for 
their Catholic compatriots; in Switzerland, this difference is 0.05, and in 







192 Rudy B. Andeweg 


Germany 0.15. In Germany, mean trust in politicians is 3.59 for both 
Protestants and Catholics. 

In general, sociodemographic variables are not strongly related to polit¬ 
ical trust. As Levi and Stoker (2000, p. 481) summarize, “Nearly all 
of this research, whatever its specific conclusions, agrees on one point. 
Whether citizens express trust or distrust is primarily a reflection of their 
political lives, not their personalities nor even their social characteris¬ 
tics.” However, the relationship between personality (need for structure, 
social value orientation, etc.) and political trust has not been studied 
extensively. Political trust (whether in parliament, parties, or politicians) 
is correlated with generalized interpersonal trust: in the European Social 
Surveys, for example, Pearson’s r is around .333** for the correlation 
between trust in fellow citizens and trust in politicians in all five sur¬ 
veys, and it is statistically significant in all countries. This could indicate 
that some people simply have a more trusting personality than others, 
but the jury is still out on whether social trust spills over into political 
trust or, the other way around, trustworthy political institutions facilitate 
interpersonal trust (Nannestad, 2008). 


From legitimacy crisis to healthy mistrust? 

Despite repeated sightings in the popular press, this expedition has failed 
yet again to find solid evidence of the political monster of Loch Ness. 
Longitudinal data based on a standardized methodology and identical 
question wording in several European countries are available with regard 
to satisfaction with the working of democracy for 1974 to 2012 (Euro¬ 
barometer), with regard to trust in parliament and in political parties for 
1997 to 2012 (Eurobarometer), and with regard to trust in politicians 
(as well as parliament and parties) for 2002-10 (European Social Sur¬ 
vey). This evidence shows no signs of an overall secular decline in politi¬ 
cal trust. At least in recent decades, the confidence gap is not widening. 
There is considerable variation over time, but it is fluctuation rather than 
trend, and also the fact that the young do not show lower trust does not 
point to a future widening of the confidence gap because of generational 
replacement. There is also considerable variation across countries, and 
these two types of variation are largely accounted for by the political real¬ 
ity in those countries: lower trust in countries where democracy is not 
yet fully institutionalized, in countries and at times with high corruption 
or political scandal, or in countries where the political system exacer¬ 
bates the impact of being on the losing side. The variation in trust within 
countries is even higher, but this variation is not consistently related to 
differences between social groups. There is no evidence of a difference in 


A growing confidence gap in politics? 


193 


political trust between winners and losers in cultural terms (noncitizens, 
ethnic minorities, and women do not show substantially lower levels of 
trust). There is some evidence of a winner-loser gap in socioeconomic 
terms, with the unemployed in particular showing somewhat lower levels 
of political trust. 

Admittedly, the absolute levels of satisfaction with the functioning of 
democracy are not impressive, and trust in parliament, and especially 
trust in political parties and politicians, seems quite low. However, the 
survey questions leave much to be desired, and the questions pertaining 
to trust in parties and politicians as a category probably underestimate 
actual levels of trust. Even if we were to accept the absolute levels of polit¬ 
ical trust as measured by available surveys, it should be remembered that 
in competitive democratic politics there will always be winners and losers, 
and it would be naive to expect high political trust among supporters of 
the losing side in the most recent elections. 

It is even argued that high trust is not necessarily a good thing in 
a democracy: a certain level of mistrust can be considered healthy as 
it prompts citizens to monitor their political representatives closely and 
makes political actors aware that they are accountable (e.g., Rosanvallon, 
2008). Lenard (2008) argues that this argument is valid only for mistrust 
(caution, doubt) which fosters vigilance, not for the closely related con¬ 
cept of distrust (cynicism, suspicion), which fosters abstention, but this 
distinction has not yet been applied in empirical research. Another way 
to approach the desirability of political trust is to return to Easton’s 
distinction between diffuse and specific support. Low levels of trust in 
specific political actors are not problematic as long as they are accom¬ 
panied by higher levels of trust in democratic institutions: when citizens 
mistrust not only the politicians but also the democratic institutions, the 
legitimacy of the democratic regime is at stake. 

This does not seem to be the case. The 2010 European Social Survey 
measures satisfaction with the functioning of democracy on an 11-point 
scale, from 0 (“extremely dissatisfied”) to 10 (“extremely satisfied”). A 
comparison of the country means on that scale with those for trust in 
politicians makes clear that diffuse support is higher than specific support 
in each case (Figure 10.6). Strictly speaking, the scale lengths may be 
similar, but satisfaction and trust are different concepts. But comparing 
mean trust in parliament with mean trust in political parties also shows 
that trust at the more diffuse level is higher in all countries included in 
the 2010 European Social Survey, and in all but two countries included 
in the 2012 Eurobarometer. 

In addition, if we return to Table 10.1, there is not a single social group 
in the 2010 European Social Survey for which trust in parliament was 


194 


Rudy B. Andeweg 



Figure 10.6 Satisfaction with the working of democracy and trust in 
politicians in twenty-seven countries, 2010. Source: European Social 
Survey 5, 2010. BE: Belgium; BU: Bulgaria; CH: Switzerland; CY: 
Cyprus; CZ: Czech Republic; DE: Germany; DK: Denmark; EE: Esto¬ 
nia; ES: Spain; FI: Finland; FR: France; GR: Greece; HR: Croatia; 
HU: Hungary; IE: Ireland; IL: Israel; LT: Lithuania; NL: Netherlands; 
NO: Norway; PL: Poland; PT: Portugal; RU: Russia; SE: Sweden; SI: 
Slovenia; SK: Slovakia; UA: Ukraine; UK: United Kingdom. 

lower than trust in parties or trust in politicians. European citizens may 
not always put their trust in politicians, but even then they have more 
trust in the democratic system, in their ability “to vote the rascals out 
of office.” What remains to be explained, however, is the tenacity of the 
belief in a widening confidence gap undermining our democracies. 


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Ill 


Paranoia 




11 Misconnecting the dots: origins 

and dynamics of out-group paranoia 


Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 


“Germany planned this from the beginning. . . The German dream is 
at hand. What they’ve been unable to achieve through guns and tanks, 
the unified Germany is about to achieve through austerity and export- 
based economic prowess ... As the euro crisis deepens, Germany has 
taken on greater and greater power in dictating fiscal policy to euro-zone 
states ... If the euro survives, Germany will accomplish what it couldn’t 
through blood, sweat and tears. A German continent that serves as a 
vehicle for German economic and political interests. . . That’s why, if 
the euro survives, you’ll start to hear more of a German conspiracy. 
After all, isn’t this what they thought would happen all along?” 

Hines (2012, p. 1) 


As the quotation above nicely illustrates, perceptions of conspiracy and 
malevolent intent readily arise between interdependent social groups, 
especially when one group perceives that the actions of another pose 
an economic, social, or existential threat. To this point, a consider¬ 
able body of social-psychological research has documented the preva¬ 
lence of mutual suspicion and distrust between groups at all levels of 
social organization, as well as the ease with which such psychologi¬ 
cal states can develop. Distrust and suspicion have been observed, for 
example, between groups within public and private organizations (Blake 
and Mouton, 1986; Lane and Bachman, 1998), between diverse groups 
within social communities (Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadmax et al ., 1999; 
Pruitt, 1987), and between international groups (Jervis, 1976; Kahn and 
Kramer, 1990; Larson, 1997). Whether measured in terms of the seem¬ 
ingly intractable misunderstandings and social conflicts they engender 
(Pruitt, 1987) or the missed opportunities they portend (Larson, 1997), 
mutual suspicion and distrust have remained enduring, if unfortunate, 
features of many intergroup relations. 


The authors express their appreciation to Paul A. M. van Lange for his numerous helpful 
editorial comments and suggestions. We are grateful also for the support provided by 
the William R. Kimball family in the preparation of this research and for research funds 
provided by Stanford University’s Graduate School of Business. 


199 



200 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

Given the importance and recurrent nature of this problem, it is not 
surprising that social psychologists have sought to explicate the origins 
of such suspicion and distrust. One prominent approach to understand¬ 
ing this problem has focused on analyzing the role “realistic conflict” 
plays in the development of suspicion and distrust between social groups 
(e.g., Sherif, Harvey, White et al., 1961). One basis for such realistic 
conflict is the interdependence groups confront with respect to valuable 
but scarce resources, such as land, water, fishing rights, oil, or precious 
metals. As Sherif et al. demonstrated in their classic work in this area, 
interdependence of this sort can foster intense competition, both real and 
perceived, between groups vying for these limited resources. Moreover, 
this heightened sense of competition can foster mutual suspicion and 
wariness regarding the cooperative motives and ultimate trustworthiness 
of the “other side.” 

Concerns about relative status and comparative well-being are another 
major source of potential misunderstanding and conflict between social 
groups, often fostering mutual distrust and suspicion of the other’s 
actions and motives (Fiske, 2011; Kramer, 1996). Other streams of 
social-psychological research have highlighted the deleterious effects of 
basic social cognitive processes, including social categorization and out¬ 
group derogation, on the development and persistence of intergroup 
distrust and suspicion (e.g., Brewer, 1981; Insko and Schopler, 1998; 
Kramer 1991). 

Each of these perspectives has enlightened scholars on the myriad 
sources of potential mistrust and wariness that can arise between inter¬ 
dependent groups. Although drawing on these previous contributions, 
we take a different approach in this chapter to understanding the ori¬ 
gins of intergroup suspicion and distrust. Specifically, we elaborate on 
the role a psychological state we term out-group paranoia plays in the 
emergence of distrust and suspicion between social groups. We con¬ 
ceptualize such paranoia as an extreme form of suspicion and resultant 
distrust that arises between groups embedded in a familiar class of sit¬ 
uations known as hierarchical trust dilemmas. In many trust dilemmas, 
the interdependent actors possess fairly equal status or power (e.g., two 
young professionals starting a collaborative project at work, but who each 
harbor some concerns about the trustworthiness of the other; much of 
the previous literature, in fact, has focused exclusively on such relation¬ 
ships). By contrast, in hierarchical trust dilemmas, an asymmetry exists 
with respect to the power or status of one party over the other, the classi¬ 
cal example being a manager-employee or professor-student relationship 
(see Hardin, 2004 and Kramer, 1996 for fuller expositions of the logic 
and structure of choice in such dilemmas). The primary aim of our 


Misconnecting the dots 


201 


chapter is to present a framework for conceptualizing the cognitive com¬ 
ponents and interactional dynamics of intergroup paranoia within such 
hierarchical relationships. 

We first provide a brief overview of previous social-psychological 
research on intergroup distrust and suspicion. We then define more pre¬ 
cisely what we mean by out-group paranoia, contrasting it with these 
earlier conceptions of intergroup distrust and suspicion. We next intro¬ 
duce the notion of a hierarchical trust dilemma and examine the psy¬ 
chological, social, and structural factors that influence the emergence of 
out-group paranoia in such situations. We conclude by discussing some 
implications of our framework and the directions future research on this 
topic might take. 


Conceptualizing out-group paranoia 

In the social sciences, distrust has generally been conceptualized as a psy¬ 
chological state that reflects individuals’ negative beliefs and pessimistic 
expectations regarding the trustworthiness of other individuals or groups 
with whom they are interdependent (see Kramer, 1998, 1999 for recent 
reviews). Suspicion has been treated, in turn, as one of the central cogni¬ 
tive components underlying such negative beliefs and expectations (Fein 
and Hilton, 1994; Hilton, Fein, and Miller, 1993). 

In much of the early literature, these negative beliefs and pessimistic 
expectations were viewed as more or less rational forms of inference, 
at least insofar as individuals’ judgments regarding a target’s trustwor¬ 
thiness were construed as reasonably veridical reflections of their actual 
experience with the target. In other words, such beliefs and expecta¬ 
tions were presumed to be generalizations based on prior experience, 
and anchored or grounded in the actual interactional histories of the 
groups. For example, the early and influential work in this area of 
Rotter (1980) and Lindskold (1978, 1986) conceptualized trust and dis¬ 
trust as generalized expectancies that are predicated on a specific history 
of interaction between interdependent individuals or groups. Boyle and 
Bonacich’s (1970) account of trust and distrust development proposed 
that expectations about trustworthy or untrustworthy behavior change 
“in the direction of experience and to a degree proportional to the differ¬ 
ence between this experience and the initial expectations applied to it” 
(p. 130). 

In a similar vein, social-psychological research on suspicion has empha¬ 
sized that individuals often engage in fairly systematic and sometimes 
even quite sophisticated attributional analyses when trying to calibrate 
the level of prudent suspicion appropriate in a given situation (e.g., Fein, 


202 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

1996). Viewed in conjunction, these two streams of research paint a 
portrait of social perceivers as “intuitive social scientists” (cf. Kelley, 
1973) who are motivated to form accurate judgments regarding others’ 
trustworthiness or lack of trustworthiness on the basis of their actual 
experience with them. 

While recognizing that distrust and suspicion are sometimes the end 
products of such systematic and orderly inferential processes, a number of 
researchers have noted that other forms of distrust and suspicion appear 
to be far less systematic or rational in their origins. For example, Deutsch 
(1973) proposed a form of irrational distrust and suspicion characterized 
by an “inflexible, rigid, unaltering tendency to act in a suspicious manner, 
irrespective of the situation or the consequences of so acting” (p. 171). 
The irrationality of this form of distrust and suspicion, Deutsch noted, is 
reflected in “the indiscriminateness and incorrigibility” of the cognitive 
and behavioral tendencies they engender (p. 171). According to this 
view, irrational distrust and suspicion reflect exaggerated propensities to 
doubt others’ trustworthiness or benevolence and to harbor heightened 
suspicions regarding their actions - doubts and suspicions which can 
arise even in the absence of concrete evidence justifying them. 

Paranoid cognitions have long been regarded as the prototypic form of 
such extreme and exaggerated distrust and suspicion (Cameron, 1943). 
In one of the first systematic treatments of this subject, Colby (1981) 
defined paranoid cognitions as persecutory delusions and false beliefs 
which encompass individuals’ perceptions of being “harassed, threat¬ 
ened, harmed, subjugated, persecuted, accused, mistreated, wronged, 
tormented, disparaged, vilified, and so on, by malevolent others, either 
specific individuals or groups” (p. 518). 

Although initial research focused on the most extreme (i.e., clini¬ 
cal) forms of paranoid cognition (Cameron, 1943; Colby, 1981), recent 
social-psychological research has shifted attention to the examination 
of more benign or “ordinary” forms of paranoid cognition. Research 
in this vein has proceeded from the observation that, in milder form, 
paranoid cognitions appear to be quite prevalent in everyday social and 
organizational life. They can be observed even among normal individ¬ 
uals, especially when they find themselves in situations that make them 
feel socially threatened or anxious (e.g., Fenigstein, 1984; Fenigstein and 
Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1994, 1998; Zimbardo, Andersen, and Kabat, 
1981). From the standpoint of the present chapter, it is important to note 
that nearly all of this recent research has focused on interpersonal forms 
of paranoid cognition, and has highlighted almost exclusively its cognitive 
components (e.g., Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1998). 


Misconnecting the dots 


203 


In this chapter, in contrast, we develop a conceptualization of paranoid 
cognition at the intergroup level. Specifically, we are interested in situa¬ 
tions where members of one social or political group develop paranoid¬ 
like beliefs and suspicions regarding another group or groups. Although 
we focus primarily on the cognitive engines driving paranoid beliefs and 
attributions, we also consider the affective underpinnings and behavioral 
consequences of paranoid cognitions in intergroup contexts. Accordingly, 
drawing on but also expanding Colby’s original definition, we charac¬ 
terize out-group paranoia as individual group members’ perceptions of 
themselves (and their in-group) as harassed, threatened, harmed, subju¬ 
gated, persecuted, accused, mistreated, wronged, tormented, disparaged, 
or vilified by another group or its individual members. Out-group para¬ 
noia is thus construed in terms of both the specific cognitions group 
members hold about a specific out-group (or out-groups) by whom they 
feel threatened, and also all of the attendant affective states or feelings 
associated with such dysphoric cognitions (cf. Smith, 1993). 

We further formulate out-group paranoia as a psychological response 
by group members to the specific interdependence structures in which 
their intergroup relations are embedded. On the basis of accumulating 
research, there has been growing appreciation of the affective and cogni¬ 
tive consequences of various interdependence structures on the develop¬ 
ment of intergroup relations (e.g., Alderfer, 1977; Ancona, 1987; Fiske 
and Ruscher, 1993; Kramer, 1991; Zucker, 1986). We argue that asym¬ 
metrical interdependence structures (i.e., those characterized by differ¬ 
ences in the power, status, or dependence among groups) play a central 
role in the development of out-group paranoia. To develop this point 
further, it is necessary to consider the characteristics of such interdepen¬ 
dence structures, and to elaborate on their contribution to the emergence 
of out-group paranoia. 


Hierarchical trust dilemmas as contexts 
for the emergence of out-group paranoia 

As noted earlier in this chapter, trust dilemmas are situations where two 
or more interdependent groups perceive an opportunity to benefit from 
engaging in acts of trust, but are cognizant also of the risks of exploitation 
or abuse associated with such acts (see Kramer and Carnevale, 2001 for a 
recent review). In most experimental studies of such dilemmas, symmet¬ 
ric intergroup relations (i.e., those involving equal dependence or power 
between groups) have been modeled. In real-world intergroup relations, 
however, it is very often the case that substantial asymmetries exist with 


204 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

respect to the levels of dependence or power between two or more groups. 
A characteristic of these hierarchical intergroup trust dilemmas, then, is 
that one group possesses comparatively low power or high dependence 
relative to another group with which it is interdependent. 

Examples of such low-power/high-dependence (LP/HD) groups are 
plentiful in social and organizational life (Kramer, 1998). They include, 
for example, groups that are disadvantaged with respect to their access 
to, or control over, critical resources on which their survival and well¬ 
being depend (e.g., groups that differ substantially by socioeconomic 
status). They include groups that experience substantial and chronic 
uncertainty regarding their social status or standing in a social system 
(e.g., token groups). They also include groups that perceive themselves 
to be under conditions of high evaluative scrutiny (e.g., newcomer groups 
in organizations or other groups whose status is still being negotiated). 
Because of the operation of well-known self-serving and group-enhancing 
biases, perceptions of asymmetries in benefits and burdens are common 
denominators of intergroup experience (see, e.g., Polzer, Kramer, and 
Neale, 1997). 

From a psychological perspective, asymmetries in power or depen¬ 
dence have several important consequences. First, members of LP/HD 
groups are likely to experience intense feelings of psychological vulnera¬ 
bility, insecurity, fear, and anxiety when dealing with members of high- 
power out-groups on whom they depend. After all, these members must 
rely on an out-group’s benevolence when it comes to the allocation of 
critical resources under its jurisdiction or control (Brockner and Siegel, 
1996; Tyler and Lind, 1992). Yet, at the same time, there may be consid¬ 
erable uncertainty regarding the motives, intentions, and actions of this 
group. Because of these factors, concerns among LP/HD group mem¬ 
bers regarding the trustworthiness of the out-group or its members are 
likely to be very salient. 

When doubts about another group’s trustworthiness are present, judg¬ 
ment and choice in a trust dilemma can entail considerable attitudinal 
ambivalence. As Kipnis (1996) aptly observed, simply having to trust 
another social actor can create a strong antipathy towards both the act 
of trust and its object. For example, in a trust dilemma, there may be a 
strong desire and temptation to trust, in the hope of reaping the benefits 
that flow from such trust. At the same time, there may be an equally 
strong reluctance and aversion to trust because of the obvious vulner¬ 
abilities and risks such acts of trust create. Thus, from the standpoint 
of the members of the LP/HD group, the decision to trust or not trust 
the high-power out-group or its members creates a classic “approach- 
avoidance” conflict (Janis, 1989; Janis and Mann, 1977). On the one 


Misconnecting the dots 


205 


hand, trusting members of an out-group when they are willing to act in 
a trustworthy fashion can lead to realization of a highly desired benefit - 
an attractive lure. However, engaging in trusting behavior when they 
lack trustworthiness can lead to the “sucker’s payoff,” a psychologically 
aversive outcome and one that is to be avoided. Affectively, individu¬ 
als in such situations often simultaneously experience both the positive 
hedonic states associated with an anticipation of the fulfillment of trust, 
coupled with the negative affective states associated with the prospect of 
abused trust. 

To summarize, we have argued up to this point that out-group paranoia 
represents an extreme and affectively laden form of heightened distrust 
and suspicion. Additionally, we have suggested that dependence on a 
powerful out-group, coupled with substantial uncertainty regarding that 
out-group’s trustworthiness, creates the psychological climate for the 
emergence of such paranoia. In the next section, we pull these two indi¬ 
vidual strands of argument more tightly together by explicating a model 
of out-group paranoia in hierarchical trust dilemmas. 


Out-group paranoia in hierarchical trust dilemmas: 
a conceptual framework 

Figure 11.1 depicts a model of out-group paranoia inductively derived 
from a number of prior empirical studies (see Kramer, 1998 for a sum¬ 
mary of this evidence). According to the model, out-group paranoia is 
triggered when individuals from one group find themselves in a situa¬ 
tion characterized by two conditions. The first condition is high actual 
or perceived dependence on another group (the salient out-group). To 
the extent that dependence contributes to a sense of loss of control over 
one’s fate, it is likely to be experienced as aversive. 

A second factor that can trigger out-group paranoia is the presence of 
significant uncertainty or doubt regarding the out-group’s trustworthi¬ 
ness. Uncertainty in intergroup relations can take many forms, of course, 
including, among others, uncertainty regarding the severity of the con¬ 
flict of interests between the parties, uncertainty regarding the possibly 
malevolent motives or hostile intentions of the out-group, and the possi¬ 
bility that the out-group might engage in aggressive actions that threaten 
the in-group’s future well-being (see Balliet and van Lange, 2013 for a 
more thorough and thoughtful discussion of uncertainty and its impact 
on trust). 

This conjunction of high dependence and high uncertainty, according 
to the model, contributes to a heightened sense of vulnerability and 


206 


Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 



Figure 11.1 A model of out-group paranoia. 




















Misconnecting the dots 


207 


enhanced perceptions of threat from the out-group. These, in turn, give 
rise to heightened states of fear and anxiety. 

The model identifies two important consequences of such fear and anx¬ 
iety. First, fear and anxiety about the out-group’s intentions and actions 
foster a hypervigilant mode of social information processing, whereby 
frightened and anxious group members tend to scrutinize and overpro¬ 
cess information or cues regarding the intentions or actions of the dis¬ 
trusted out-group, especially when that information is highly ambiguous 
or uncertain. Second, fear and anxiety contribute to a ruminative style of 
social information processing, characterized by dysphoric (gloomy and 
pessimistic) thinking regarding the causes and likely consequences of 
one’s distressing predicament. 

From the perspective of individuals in such predicaments, the osten¬ 
sible aim of such intense information processing is accurate appraisal of 
the nature of the threat they face and, presumably, the formulation of 
some sort of adaptive response to it. A considerable body of research 
shows, in this regard, that moderate levels of perceived vulnerability and 
threat often do provoke fairly vigilant and adaptive appraisal and cop¬ 
ing behavior (e.g., Janis and Mann, 1977; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Lazarus 
and Folkman, 1984; Snyder, 1999). Such studies suggest that individu¬ 
als engage in what they intend as constructive search and appraisal. In 
other words, their hope and expectation are that by adequately “thinking 
through” their problems, they are more likely to find a viable solution to 
them (Janis and Mann, 1977; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Wyer, 1996). 

Although these positive goals may be the intended aims of such dili¬ 
gent information processing, research suggests a number of ways in which 
hypervigilance and rumination can actually undermine accurate appraisal 
and effective coping. For example, research has demonstrated that hyper¬ 
vigilant social information processing often leads to a constriction or 
narrowing of the perceptual field, fostering the misconstrual and over¬ 
weighting of causal and social information (Janis and Mann, 1977). In 
trust dilemma situations, for instance, studies have shown that hyper¬ 
vigilance can lead to exaggerated doubts about, and overly pessimistic 
estimates of, others’ trustworthiness (Fenigstein, 1979; Fenigstein and 
Vanable, 1992; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Kramer, 1994; Kramer, Meyerson, 
and Davis, 1990). 

In a similar vein, research on dysphoric rumination has demonstrated 
that rumination following negative events can increase pessimistic think¬ 
ing regarding those events, including “worst case” thinking about others’ 
reliability or trustworthiness (Greenberg, 1987; Kramer, 1994; Kramer, 
Meyerson, and Davis, 1990; Lyubomirsky and Nolen-Hoeksema, 1993; 
Wyer, 1996). Ironically, there is some evidence that intense rumination 


208 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

can also increase individuals’ confidence in the accuracy of their social 
perceptions and inferences. As Wilson and Kraft (1993) aptly noted in 
this regard, “Because it is often difficult to get at the exact roots of [our] 
feelings, repeated introspections may not result in better access to the 
actual causes. Instead, people may repeatedly focus on reasons that are 
plausible and easy to verbalize” (p. 410). As a result, they may conclude 
that their extra mindfulness of the evidence has led to better judgments 
regarding it. 

This raises the question as to just what sort of reasons are likely to be 
perceived as plausible when individuals try to assess the trustworthiness 
of an out-group or one of its members. Past research suggests that one 
consequence of fear and anxiety in intergroup contexts is that stereotype- 
consistent information will be overprocessed and overweighted when 
group members are interpreting ambiguous or uncertain social informa¬ 
tion regarding an out-group (see Wilder and Simon, 2001 for a review). 
In particular, this research has shown that fear and anxiety interfere with 
the accurate processing of information about out-group members, so 
that social perceivers are more likely to interpret their contact experi¬ 
ences in terms of their pre-existing expectations and beliefs regarding the 
out-group. Moreover, when individuals are more anxious, they also are 
likely to overlook counter-stereotypic information when making judg¬ 
ments about out-group members. 

Drawing on this previous theory and research, we formulate three 
specific forms of intergroup misperception or judgmental error that con¬ 
tribute to out-group paranoia. We characterize these three forms of mis¬ 
perception as (1) the overly personalistic construal of intergroup inter¬ 
actions, (2) the sinister attribution error or bias, and (3) the exaggerated 
perception of conspiracy. 

The overly personalistic construal of intergroup interactions refers to 
the tendency for individuals from one group to interpret the behavior 
of out-group members as if they were directed at them personally (i.e., 
had the self-as-out-group-member as the intended target). A number of 
studies have shown, for example, that people experiencing situationally 
induced paranoia often make such overly personalistic attributions of 
others’ actions, even when competing, nonpersonalistic explanations for 
their behavior are readily available (Fenigstein, 1979; Fenigstein and 
Vanable, 1992; Gilovich, Medvec, and Savitsky, 2000; Kramer, 1994; 
Zimbardo et al., 1981). Thus, when members of one group overhear 
members of another group laughing in a social setting, they may feel that 
they are laughing at them rather than a joke that was just told by the group. 

One factor contributing to this overly personalistic construal of 
social interactions in intergroup contexts is the “biased punctuation” 


Misconnecting the dots 


209 


of exchanges involving in-group and out-group members. Individuals in 
such situations typically do not experience their interactions as continu¬ 
ous, ongoing streams, but instead “punctuate” them in terms of perceived 
cycles or units of “action-reaction” (Kahn and Kramer, 1990). Thus, for 
example, members of an in-group, I, are likely to construe the history 
of conflict with a distrusted out-group, O, as a sequence O-I, O-I, O-I, 
in which an initial breach of trust (e.g., a failure to keep a promise) was 
made by O, causing I to engage in defensive and legitimate retaliatory 
actions in response to that breach. However, members of out-group O 
may punctuate the same history of interaction as I-O, I-O, I-O, reversing 
their roles. 

A second form of misperception associated with out-group paranoia is 
the sinister-attribution bias. This bias reflects a tendency for social actors 
to overattribute malevolent motives and intentions to the ambiguous 
actions of other actors (Kramer, 1994). From a normative standpoint, it 
has long been recognized that individuals should discount the validity of 
any single causal attribution for another person’s behavior when multiple 
explanations for that behavior are readily available (Kelley, 1973; Morris 
and Larrick, 1995). Thus, when situational cues cast reasonable doubt 
on another’s actions, people should become appropriately suspicious or 
wary. Other studies have shown, however, that individuals sometimes 
make unrealistically sinister inferences and attributions regarding others’ 
actions Such overly sinister attributions are especially likely to be made 
in situations where negative stereotypes about the out-group’s trustwor¬ 
thiness already exist and therefore are easily activated (see, e.g., Insko 
and Schopler, 1998; Wildschut, Pinter, Vevea et al., 2003). 

The third form of misperception associated with out-group paranoia is 
the exaggerated perception of conspiracy. This refers to the tendency for 
members of one group to overestimate the extent to which the individual 
behaviors of out-group members are coordinated or linked together by 
some coherent motivation or goal (e.g., Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadmax 
etal ., 1999; Kramer and Messick, 1996; Moscovici, 1987; Pruitt, 1987). 
One of the hallmarks of such exaggerated perceptions of conspiracy is the 
tendency to overperceive causal connections among the actions of indi¬ 
vidual out-group members. This overperception can arise, moreover, 
even when their actions are, in actuality, independent and unrelated. Just 
as the biased punctuation of intergroup exchanges entails the overper¬ 
ception of episodic linkages between disparate or unconnected events, 
so the exaggerated perception of conspiracy entails an overperception of 
intentional social linkages among the actions of out-group actors. 

According to the model, these forms of misperception and mis- 
construal contribute to several forms of paranoid behavior, including 


210 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

behavioral inhibition and social withdrawal. Behavioral inhibition 
includes such things as reluctance to disclose personal details about one¬ 
self when in the presence of out-group members, or to engage in other 
forms of “risky” social behavior (e.g., telling jokes, discussing controver¬ 
sial issues, etc.) when interacting with them. Social withdrawal includes 
avoidant behaviors, such as not participating in informal social events 
and eschewing other forms of contact with out-group members. Note 
that these forms of paranoid behavior are intendedly self-protective (i.e., 
defensively motivated). 

Because many of the social behaviors affected by paranoid cognition 
(e.g., the willingness to self-disclose to others, and engage in informal 
contact with them) play a critical role in the development of trust, such 
paranoia leads to a self-fulfilling pattern of suspicious and mistrustful 
interaction. As the figure suggests in this regard, these paranoid behav¬ 
iors tend to elicit various parallel negative reactions from the out-group 
members towards which they are directed. Thus, when out-group mem¬ 
bers detect a reluctance to self-disclose and the desire to avoid con¬ 
tact with them, they become wary and suspicious as well. Thus, the 
reciprocal interaction dynamics created by these behaviors results in self- 
perpetuating and often escalating cycles of mutual antipathy and wariness 
(e.g., Zimbardo et al, 1981). 

An instructive parallel to this reciprocal dynamic has been demon¬ 
strated in research on the development and persistence of hostile attribu¬ 
tion and dysfunctional interpersonal behavior among aggressive children 
(Dodge, 1982). Such children, Dodge found, enter social transactions 
with a strong expectation of hostility from others. They thus approach 
their social encounters with a state of heightened vigilance. In a sense, 
they are perpetually “pre-offended” and are therefore prepared to act 
swiftly when detecting provocations or slights from others. Because of 
this pre-emptive stance towards their social encounters, they end up, 
ironically, eliciting through their self-protective behaviors the very out¬ 
comes they most dread. In much the same fashion as these overly aggres¬ 
sive boys, paranoid group members remain perceptually vigilant to detect 
signs indicative of out-group untrustworthiness. Because they are primed 
for the prospect of trust abuses, they are prone, as a result, to code even 
ambiguous encounters as evidence of tainted trustworthiness. The para¬ 
noid and defensive behavioral stances supported by these expectations 
then end up eliciting the very sort of uncomfortable, self-conscious, emo¬ 
tionally distant intergroup interactions that further reinforce and help 
sustain mutual wariness, suspicion and discomfort between the groups 
(cf. Gilbert and Jones, 1986; Gilovich, 1991; Kramer, 1994; Zimbardo 
et al., 1981). Thus, a dubious set of assumptions and nagging doubts 


Misconnecting the dots 


211 


serve as a foundation for an equally questionable set of social strategies 
for dealing with them. 

Ironically, even the complete absence of any cues at all can be con¬ 
strued as a powerful form of confirmatory evidence for the paranoid 
in-group perceiver when anxiety activates the stereotype-consistent pro¬ 
cessing of ambiguous information. Dawes (1988) has provided a nice 
illustration of this possibility in his discussion of the debate over the 
necessity of interning Japanese-Americans at the beginning of World 
War II. The question, of course, was the safety of American society given 
the presence of a sizeable contingent of Japanese-Americans in its midst 
in the middle of a war with Japan. Where would their loyalties lie? Could 
they be trusted? When the late Supreme Court Chief Justice Earl War¬ 
ren (then attorney-general of California) testified before a congressional 
hearing regarding the wisdom of internment, one of his interrogators 
noted that absolutely no evidence of espionage or sabotage on the part 
of any Japanese-Americans had been presented or was available to the 
committee. Thus, there was absolutely no objective evidence of danger at 
all. Warren’s response as to how best to interpret this absence of evidence 
is revealing. “Unfortunately, [there are many who] are of the opinion that 
because we have had no sabotage and no fifth column activities in this 
state . . . that none has been planned for us. But I take the view that this 
lack [of evidence] is the most ominous sign in our whole situation. It 
convinces me more than perhaps any other factor that the sabotage we 
are to get, the Fifth Column activities we are to get, are timed just like 
Pearl Harbor was timed” (p. 251). He then went on to add, “I believe we 
are just being lulled into a false sense of security” (p. 251). 


Implications and conclusions 

In this chapter, we have presented a framework for conceptualizing some 
of the cognitive, affective, and behavioral antecedents and consequences 
of out-group paranoia. The construct of out-group paranoia is useful, we 
have argued, for understanding the conditions under which exaggerated 
and dysfunctional forms of distrust and suspicion are likely to develop and 
flourish between interdependent social groups. Metaphorically speaking, 
the psychological processes identified by this framework - operating in 
concert - make it all too easy for members of one group to “misconnect 
the dots” when trying to determine another group’s trustworthiness - or 
lack thereof. 

At first glance, it might appear that our framework leads one to con¬ 
clude that out-group paranoia might be an overdetermined psycholog¬ 
ical state - easily triggered and quickly entrenched. As such, it would 


212 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer 

seem to bode badly for the prospects of intergroup trust and cooper¬ 
ation developing between any interdependent groups, especially those 
with a history of enmity. While it is our view that suspicion and distrust 
between groups can emerge quite readily, research has identified psy¬ 
chological processes that may attenuate the development of escalating 
paranoia and run-away wariness. For example, provocative work on the 
system justification motive suggests a variety of psychological and social 
processes which can contribute to the acceptance of the status quo in 
intergroup relations (see, e.g., Jost and Banaji, 1994 ; Jost and Burgess, 
2000 ; Jost and Kramer, 2002 ). Arguably, such processes might off-set 
or compensate for some of the deleterious factors we have identified in 
this chapter. Moreover, group members (and especially their leaders) are 
not passive or helpless bystanders to such dynamics. As recent research 
has amply demonstrated, there are a variety of constructive approaches 
that motivated groups and their leaders can take to build and sustain 
trust (Pittinsky, 2012 ). These include both behavioral and structural 
interventions designed to facilitate more cooperative and trusting inter¬ 
group interactions. Moreover, even in situations where trust has been 
disrupted or damaged, trust repair is possible if groups and their leaders 
are motivated and resourceful in approaching this challenge (Kramer and 
Lewicki, 2010 ; Kramer and Pittinsky, 2012 ). We hope future research 
will explore these possibilities further. 

There remains one important caveat or cautionary note we should add 
before concluding this chapter. Although the reduction of misplaced dis¬ 
trust and exaggerated paranoia are laudatory goals, it is important to note 
that sometimes a certain level of “paranoia” may be justified and even 
quite prudent. For example, when the costs of misplaced trust or compla¬ 
cency with respect to threat detection are high, even the extreme-seeming 
levels of vigilance and surveillance of an out-group may be warranted. 

Within many groups, interestingly, there are often one or more individ¬ 
uals whose perceptions of threat or danger are more accurate than other 
members’ - and whose paranoid-like warnings merit attention. Unfor¬ 
tunately, such “Cassandras” are often ignored, ridiculed, or ostracized 
(Kramer, 2002). For example, Winston Churchill’s persistent concerns 
and early warnings about the dangers posed by Adolf Hitler were dis¬ 
counted for many years by his colleagues in Parliament. Similarly, when 
FBI agent John O’Neill tried to alert government officials to the danger 
posed by Osama bin Laden prior to the September 11, 2001 terror¬ 
ist attacks on America, he was dismissed by many of his superiors as 
“obsessed” and “slightly paranoid” (Weiss, 2003 ). One important lesson 
from these examples is that organizational leaders should encourage indi¬ 
viduals to express their concerns openly and reward them for doing so, 


Misconnecting the dots 


213 


and should ensure that those concerns are taken seriously. One impor¬ 
tant role for intergroup leaders is to be vigilant and supportive of such 
group deviants. After all, as former Intel CEO Andy Grove (1999) liked 
to routinely warn his employees, “Only the paranoid survive!” 


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12 Political paranoia and conspiracy theories 


Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


We seem to live in an incredibly credulous age. Despite the unparal¬ 
leled proliferation of information (or perhaps because of it), many people 
appear to believe in all sorts of myths or false narratives that exaggerate, 
idealize, or misconstrue reality. These beliefs extend to almost all aspects 
of modern life, from pseudoscience (Swami, Stieger, Pietschnig et al, 
2012b) to pseudohistory (Allchin, 2004), as well as they way societies 
are governed and the motives of those who govern. In addition, many 
millions of people worldwide appear to subscribe to unfounded “conspir¬ 
acy theories,” while denying “official” or mainstream accounts of many 
important phenomena. 

Whether it was about Salem witches, slaveholders, Jews, Bolsheviks, 
or black militants, conspiracy theories have always found deep roots in 
society (Fenster, 1999; Goldberg, 2001; Knight, 2001). In contemporary 
societies, however, conspiracy theorists have found fertile ground in intel¬ 
ligence failures, such as in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 
(Barkun, 2003; Prange, 1986) and the assassination of President John F. 
Kennedy in 1963. In terms of the latter, for example, many Americans 
remain skeptical of the findings of the Warren Commission Report, which 
identified Lee Harvey Oswald as having acted alone in assassinating John 
F. Kennedy (Posner, 1993). Indeed, by the early 1990s, polls suggested 
that over 70% of Americans believed that some form of conspiracy was 
responsible for the president’s death (Goertzel, 1994; McHoskey, 1995; 
Southwell and Twist, 2004). 

The proliferation of conspiracy theories appears to have gathered pace 
in the wake of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, as conspir¬ 
acy theorists became convinced that they had uncovered hidden plots 
behind the events. Many scholars have noted with some concern the 
spread of conspiracy theories about the event (e.g., Goldberg, 2004) 
and the large number of respondents who disbelieve many aspects of 
mainstream accounts of the attacks (Hargrove and Stempel, 2006). Sim¬ 
ilarly, in the aftermath of the bombings in London on July 7, 2005, 
many disbelieved mainstream/official accounts that the attacks had been 


218 



Conspiracy theories 


219 


carried out by four Muslim men (Soni, 2007). However, it would be 
wrong to think that conspiracy theories are a uniquely Western phe¬ 
nomenon; rather, conspiracy theories appear to exist in many cultures 
worldwide (Gentzkow and Shapiro, 2004; Groh, 1987; Zonis and Joseph, 

1994). 

In an increasingly globalized world, and against the background of tur¬ 
moil caused by financial crises, war, and international terrorism, the need 
to understand the nature and roots of conspiracy theories has become 
increasingly important (Goldberg, 2001, 2004). In this chapter, we begin 
by providing a working definition of conspiracy theories in the modern 
age. We then dissect the roots of conspiracy theories, focusing in partic¬ 
ular on early sociological work and more recent psychological research. 
Finally, we briefly evaluate the place of conspiracy theories in modern 
societies and ask whether they can ever be a force for positive change. In 
so doing, we pay particular attention to political conspiracy theories in 
modern times. 


What makes a theory conspiracist? 

In reviewing the literature on conspiracy theories, various authors have 
expressed their surprise at the relative dearth of empirical work in the 
area (e.g., Swami and Coles, 2010). One reason why conspiracy theories 
may not have attracted much scholarly attention is the lack of consensus 
as to what is, and is not, a conspiracy theory. This concern might seem 
innocuous enough until one is faced with distinguishing between con¬ 
spiracy theories and conspiratorial politics, or real clandestine and covert 
political activities (Bale, 2007; see also Lidz, 1978). A clear and consis¬ 
tent definition of conspiracy theory, placed on a sound theoretical and 
empirical base, is required before the study of such beliefs can progress. 
Unfortunately, there was - and there still is - a good deal of conceptual 
confusion as to what makes a belief conspiracist in nature, with scholars 
often relying on informal or imprecise working definitions (Swami and 
Coles, 2010). 

Traditionally, many scholars have relied on Hofstadter’s (1966, pp. 14, 
29 ) definition, first provided in his seminal work The Paranoid Style in 
American Politics and Other Essays, of a conspiracy theory as any belief 
in the existence of a “vast, insidious, preternaturally effective interna¬ 
tional conspiratorial network designed to perpetrate acts of the most 
fiendish character” and that aims to “undermine and destroy a way of 
life.” Implicit in this definition of a conspiracy theory is the notion that 
some event or practice can be explained with “reference to the machina¬ 
tions of powerful people, who attempt to conceal their role (at least until 


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Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


their aims are accomplished” (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009, p. 205). In 
very general terms, then, conspiracy theories are a subset of false beliefs 
in which the ultimate cause of an event is believed to be due to a plot by 
multiple actors working together with a clear goal in mind, often unlaw¬ 
fully and in secret (Barkun, 2003; Basham, 2001; Davis, 1971; Goldberg, 
2001; Zonis and Joseph, 1994). 

For practical reasons, however, some authors have limited their focus 
to those beliefs that are potentially harmful in some way (excluding, say, 
the belief that Santa Claus distributes presents on Christmas Eve) and 
those that are unjustified based on information that is available in the 
public domain (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). In addition, Bale (2007, 
pp. 51-3) has suggested a set of four key characteristics that distinguish 
conspiracy theories from real conspiratorial politics. These are that: 

(1) Conspiracy theorists “consider the alleged conspirators to be Evil 
Incarnate.” That is, the conspirators are not simply actors with dif¬ 
fering political points-of-view, but are rather “inhuman, superhuman, 
and/or anti-human beings who regularly commit abominable acts and 
are implacably attempting to subvert and destroy everything that is 
decent and worth preserving in the existing world.” 

(2) Conspiracy theorists “perceive the conspiratorial group as both 
monolithic and unerring in the pursuit of its goals.” In other words, 
conspiracy theorists believe that there is a single conspiratorial hub, 
which plans and coordinates its activities, and which possesses a high 
degree of internal solidarity, cohesiveness, and single-mindedness. 

(3) Conspiracy theorists “believe that the conspiratorial group is omni¬ 
present.” That is, most conspiracy theories postulate the existence 
of a group of conspirators that is “international in its spatial dimen¬ 
sions and continuous in its temporal dimensions.” In this view, the 
conspiratorial group is believed to be capable of operating anywhere, 
which in turn allows for any negative outcome even remotely asso¬ 
ciated with the aims of the conspiratorial group to be attributed to 
them. 

( 4 ) Conspiracy theorists believe that the conspiratorial group is “virtually 
omnipotent.” In short, the conspiratorial group is considered to have 
been the force behind events of historical importance and continues 
to use nefarious and subversive means to maintain their domination 
over society. The one means of subverting their influence is to heed 
the warning of conspiracy theorists, although that is by no means a 
guarantee of success. 

The above definitional criteria are not meant to be exhaustive (see 
Mandick, 2007), but they do capture the essence of most prominent 
conspiracy theories, such as the belief that the US Central Intelligence 


Conspiracy theories 


221 


Agency (CIA) was responsible for the assassination of John F. Kennedy 
or that the September 11, 2001 attacks were perpetrated (or allowed to 
happen) by high-ranking officials in the US government. More perti¬ 
nently, perhaps, it is these definitional criteria that serve to distinguish 
conspiracy theories from real, everyday conspiratorial politics that are 
carried out by groups both within and outside government. In short, 
then, a conspiracy theory can be defined operationally as a set of false 
beliefs in which an omnipresent and omnipotent group of actors are 
believed to work together in pursuit of malevolent goals (Barkun, 2003; 
Basham, 2001; Davis, 1971; Goldberg, 2001; Zonis and Joseph, 1994). 
Having established a working definition of a conspiracy theory, we now 
turn to the sociology of conspiracy theories, examining in particular their 
emergence and purpose. 


The paranoid style 

Without doubt, contemporary discussions of conspiracy theories owe 
much to Hofstadter’s paper “The Paranoid Style in American Politics” 
(1966), in which he sought to contextualize the ascendancy of right-wing 
conspiracy theories. In coining the term “paranoid style,” Hofstadter 
clarified that he was borrowing a clinical term to describe a political 
personality: 

American politics has often been an area for angry minds. In recent years, we have 
seen angry minds at work, mainly among extreme right-wingers, who have now 
demonstrated. . . how much political leverage can be got out of the animosities 
and passions of a small minority. But, behind this, I believe, there is a style of 
mind that is far from new, and that is not necessarily right-wing. I call it the 
paranoid style, simply because no other word adequately evokes the sense of 
heated exaggeration, suspiciousness, and conspiratorial fantasy that I have in 
mind. (p. 3) 

In short, the paranoid style was a result of “angry minds” that viewed 
conspiratorial agents as “a perfect model of malice, a kind of amoral 
superman - sinister, ubiquitous, powerful, cruel, sexual, luxury-loving.” 
For the conspiracist: 

[T]he enemy is not caught in the toils of the vast mechanism of history, himself a 
victim of his past, his desires, his limitations. He wills, indeed, he manufactures, 
the mechanism of history, or tries to deflect the normal course of history in an 
evil way. He makes crises, starts runs on banks, causes depressions, manufactures 
disasters, and then enjoys and profits from the misery he has produced. The 
paranoid’s interpretation of history is distinctly personal: decisive events are not 
taken as part of the stream of history, but as the consequences of someone’s 
will. (p. 22) 


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Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


What’s more, because conspiracy theorists traffic “in the birth and death 
of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human val¬ 
ues,” they do not see “social conflict as something to be mediated and 
compromised, in the manner of the working politician.” Rather: 

Since what is at stake is always a conflict between absolute good and absolute evil, 
what is necessary is not compromise but the will to fight things out to a finish. 
Since the enemy is thought of as being totally evil and totally unappeasable, he 
must be totally eliminated — if not from the world, at least from the theatre of 
operations to which the paranoid directs his attention, (p. 24) 

This extended description of Hofstadter’s work is necessary because it 
set the tone for much of the sociological literature that followed. Deeply 
influenced by Hofstadter, many scholars came to view conspiracy the¬ 
orists as both paranoid and delusional. In fact, a good deal of research 
focused heavily on the psychopathology of conspiracy theorists, variously 
proposing that conspiracist ideation was the product of extreme paranoia, 
delusional thinking, or narcissism (see Robins and Post, 1997). In turn, 
the delusional nature of conspiracist ideation was assumed to result in 
an inability to effectively shape social and political action. In short, the 
influence of Hofstadter is evident in attempts to explain the acceptance 
of conspiracy theories in terms of individual (Robins and Post, 1997) or 
collective pathology (Groh, 1987). 

Although it is quite possible that some conspiracist ideation is the result 
of mental illness (Wulff, 1987; see also Liu, 1998), most contemporary 
scholars believe that the lens of psychopathology is not particularly help¬ 
ful in understanding the reasons why conspiracy theories arise. A com¬ 
mon critique is that conspiracy theories are so widespread, not just within 
but also across cultures, that it implausible to suggest that so many mem¬ 
bers of society are mentally ill (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). Rather, 
more recent sociological research has sought to understand conspiracy 
theories as a means for members of society to explain social phenomena 
that are otherwise difficult to comprehend (Waters, 1997). 

In actual fact, this perspective also owes much to Hofstadter, who 
posited that conspiracy theories are more likely to emerge among 
individuals or groups who feel powerless, disadvantaged, or voiceless 
(Hofstadter, 1971). In particular, it is thought that conspiracy theo¬ 
ries help to make sense of phenomena that are complex, incompre¬ 
hensible, or beyond one’s control. By reducing and simplifying phe¬ 
nomena that are often unimaginable, such as terrorist attacks or great 
tragedy, and by tying together a series of events in relation to its pur¬ 
ported causes and effects (Parish and Parker, 2001), conspiracy theories 
seemingly offer coherent explanations for human affairs that are not 


Conspiracy theories 


223 


otherwise forthcoming (McCauley and Jacques, 1979; Miller, 2002; 
Pipes, 1997). 

Thus, conspiracy theories purport to identify the cause of a perceived 
injustice or tragedy, and thereby help individuals to make sense of the 
world. Moreover, in personifying that source, conspiracy theories help 
to reaffirm an individual’s ability to shape historical events and, partially 
at least, offer a way to assuage feelings of powerlessness (Pratt, 2003). 
Certainly, there is evidence from particular populations, such as African- 
Americans, to suggest that conspiracist beliefs arise as a means of making 
sense of an individual’s marginalized position in society (Thorburn and 
Bogart, 2005). Moreover, when participants are experimentally made to 
feel that they have a lack of control, their belief in conspiracy increases 
(Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). 

From this perspective, conspiracy theories are viewed as rational psy¬ 
chological phenomena that are no different from other religious, social, 
or political beliefs. Like these other meta-explanatory frameworks, a con¬ 
spiracy theory helps to fill a need for certainty, control, or understanding, 
filling gaps in knowledge and offering a coherent elucidation of difficult 
events (Leman, 2007; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). As such, conspiracy 
theories are believed to gain acceptance particularly when mainstream 
explanations of an event contain erroneous information, discrepancies, 
or ambiguities (Miller, 2002) . For individuals who feel powerless, a con¬ 
spiracy theory helps explain those ambiguities and “provides a convenient 
alternative to living with uncertainty” (Zarefsky, 1984, p. 72). 

Consistent with this view, some scholars have suggested that conspir¬ 
acy theories fulfill an important functional role, particularly when sources 
of information are limited. Given that individuals often have to rely on 
others for direct or personal information, it is not surprising that they 
often suffer from what Flardin (2002) has called a “crippled epistemol¬ 
ogy.” Hardin uses this perspective to understand extremist behavior. 
Extremism, he argues, sometimes stems from the fact that individuals 
have very little accurate or relevant information, and the little informa¬ 
tion that they do have is supported by their extremist views. In support 
of this view, recent evidence has suggested that the type of information 
that individuals receive about a given event can influence their conspir¬ 
acist ideation (Swami et al., 2012b). Specifically, where information is 
uncritical of a conspiracy theory, acceptance appears to be higher than if 
the information is critical. 

Sunstein and Vermeule (2009) have applied a similar framework to 
conspiracy theories: rather than being the product of irrationality or men¬ 
tal illness, these authors view conspiracy theories as a rational and logi¬ 
cal manner of responding to the little information that individuals have 


224 


Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


about a particular phenomenon. Particularly when there is little reliable 
information about an event or when details are ambiguous, conspiracy 
theories may gain acceptance precisely because they offer a coherent and 
comprehensive worldview. From the point of view of conspiracy theo¬ 
rists, their beliefs are justified in the light of the information that they 
have available to them, even if those beliefs seem perplexing in relation 
to knowledge available in wider society (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). 

Other scholars have built on the notion of powerlessness to explain why 
conspiracy theories become accepted among some individuals and have 
posited that conspiracy ideation stems from an inability to attain certain 
goals (Edelman, 1985; Ingelhart, 1987) or as a means of maintaining self¬ 
esteem in the face of external threats (Robins and Post, 1997), coping 
with persecution (Combs, Penn, and Fenigstein, 2002), reasserting indi¬ 
vidualism (Davis, 1969; Melley, 2000), or expressing negative feelings 
towards out-groups (Ungerleider and Wellisch, 1979). Although these 
different explanations may seem diverse, they share a common assump¬ 
tion that conspiracy theories are not a result of psychopathological minds, 
but rather a rational attempt to deal with feelings of powerlessness sparked 
by complex economic, social, and political phenomena. 


Psychological perspectives 

In contrast to the above sociological perspectives on conspiracy theo¬ 
ries, psychological examinations of the phenomenon have stemmed from 
cognitive science and, more recently, differential psychology. In terms 
of the former, one school of thought believes that conspiracy theories 
emerge, in part at least, as a function of the fundamental attribution 
error (Clarke, 2002). This bias refers to the general tendency to over¬ 
value dispositional or personality-based explanations for observed events 
or the behavior of others, while undervaluing situational explanations for 
the self (Ross, 1977). Applied to conspiracist ideation, Clarke (2002) 
argues that conspiracy theorists may be more likely to blame person¬ 
ified actors or conspiratorial networks, thereby making a dispositional 
inference even when adequate situational explanations are available. It is 
because of this cognitive bias that conspiracy theorists rely on conspira¬ 
torial explanations for events and that they maintain those beliefs even in 
the face of alternative, more plausible explanations. 

Other work has sought to understand conspiracy theories in the con¬ 
text of biased assimilation and attitude polarization (McHoskey, 1995). 
Specifically, when an event is highly salient or becomes “cognitively 
available” (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009), competing actors will seek 
to explain the same event from different points of view. When opposing 


Conspiracy theories 


225 


sides are presented with the same evidence, there may be a tendency to 
uncritically accept evidence that is supportive of one’s own argument, 
while seeking to discredit contrary evidence (McHoskey, 1995). Corrob¬ 
orative evidence is provided in a study by Leman and Cinnirella (2007), 
which found that conspiracy theorists judged a fictitious account of an 
assassination as more plausible if it was consistent with their beliefs. For 
conspiracy theorists in particular, conspiracy theories may serve not only 
to explain the event in question but also to symbolize broader narra¬ 
tives about human affairs while casting doubt on alternative viewpoints 
(Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). 

However, McHoskey (1995) also reported that, when participants were 
presented with mixed evidence, there were signs of attitude polarization, 
in which individuals endorsed a more extreme position in line with their 
tendency. Consistent with this viewpoint, Sunstein and Vermeule (2009) 
argued that group polarization may be an important driver of conspir- 
acist ideation. Within groups with some initial inclination, the views of 
others in the group may come to be skewed in the direction of more 
extreme positions in favor of the initial tendency. However, Sunstein and 
Vermeule (2009) also note that group polarization is more likely when 
individuals in a group have a shared sense of identity; this allows con¬ 
trasting viewpoints to be dismissed more easily by the group as lacking 
in credibility. Conformity biases may also play a role in group polariza¬ 
tion, with individuals professing agreement with conspiracist ideas, or 
suppressing dissent, in order to avoid group sanctions. 

Sunstein and Vermeule (2009) have also discussed the role of the emo¬ 
tional content of conspiracy theories in their dissemination and accep¬ 
tance. Much in the same way that “urban legends” are constructed to 
trigger strong emotional responses, conspiracy theories are often similarly 
loaded with intense emotions. By triggering a strong emotional response, 
conspiracy theories serve to focus attention on biased information and 
are thereby more easily spread to others who share similar beliefs. In 
addition, acceptance of emotionally loaded conspiracy theories may help 
to justify affective states produced by an event. There is some empirical 
evidence to support such an argument: one study reported that expo¬ 
sure to Oliver Stone’s 1991 film JFK, in which it was alleged that the 
assassination of John F. Kennedy was a government conspiracy, signifi¬ 
cantly aroused anger in participants and changed beliefs towards greater 
acceptance of the conspiracy theory (Butler, Coopman, and Zimbardo, 
1995). 

Other relevant work has examined conspiracy theories in relation to the 
third-person effect - that is, a tendency for people to believe that persua¬ 
sive media has a larger influence on others than themselves. For example, 


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Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


Douglas and Sutton (2008) had participants read material containing 
conspiracy theories about Princess Diana’s death before rating their own 
and others’ agreement with the statements, as well as their perceived ret¬ 
rospective attitudes. These authors found that participants significantly 
underestimated how much the conspiracy theories influenced their own 
attitudes. A smaller body of theorizing has looked at the role of rumors 
and speculation in the assimilation of conspiracy theories, although this 
work remains piecemeal (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). 


Personality and individual differences 

Most recently, a small body of research has examined conspiracy theories 
from the point of view of differential psychology. Much of this work can be 
traced back to Goertzel’s (1994) seminal paper, in which he argued that 
conspiracy theories form part of a “monological belief system.” That is, 
once an individual has adopted a conspiracist worldview, new conspiracy 
theories are assimilated more easily because they support that particular 
worldview. Thus, believing (for example) that the September 11, 2001, 
attacks were committed by the US government makes it more likely that 
an individual will accept the conspiracy theory that the 2005 London 
bombings were committed by the British government. 

There is accumulating evidence in support of the idea that conspiracy 
theories form part of a monological belief system (e.g., Wood, Dou¬ 
glas, and Sutton, in press). One study reported that individuals who 
more strongly believed in a range of conspiracy theories, such as the 
idea that John F. Kennedy was not assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald, 
were also more likely to endorse conspiracy theories about the September 
11, 2001, attacks (Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 2010). 
A second study similarly reported that stronger belief in conspiracy theo¬ 
ries was associated with a greater tendency to endorse conspiracy theories 
about the July 7, 2005 bombings in London (Swami et al., 2011). More 
interestingly, perhaps, the same study also showed that individuals who 
more strongly believed in conspiracy theories were also more likely to 
endorse an entirely fictional conspiracy theory devised by the experi¬ 
menters (Swami et al., 2011). 

Other related work has examined associations between belief in con¬ 
spiracy theories and individual difference traits that were identified by 
earlier sociological work. Thus, studies have reported significant associa¬ 
tions between stronger conspiracist ideation and higher anomie, distrust 
in authority, political cynicism, and powerlessness, as well as lower self¬ 
esteem (Abalakina-Paap, Stephan, Craig et al., 1994; Goertzel, 1994; 


Conspiracy theories 


227 


Swami et al., 2010, 2011; Swami and Furnham, 2012). In general, these 
findings are consistent with the proposal that conspiracist ideation is more 
common among disenfranchised, disadvantaged, or powerless groups 
(Hofstadter, 1966) and that conspiracy theories play a role in self-esteem 
maintenance (Robins and Post, 1997; Young, 1990). 

In addition, two studies have reported significant associations between 
stronger conspiracist belief and greater support for democratic princi¬ 
ples (Swami et al., 2010, 2011), which might reflect conspiracy theorists’ 
greater tendency to question official modes of governance. In addition, 
studies have also reported significant associations between greater con¬ 
spiracist ideation and higher authoritarianism (Abalakina-Paap et al., 
1994; McHoskey, 1995), which has been explained as a manifestation 
of the tendency of conspiracy theorists to direct blame towards out¬ 
groups (Abalakina-Paap et al., 1994). Furthermore, at least one study 
has reported a significant association between conspiracist ideation and 
lower crystallized intelligence (Swami et al., 2011), which might sug¬ 
gest that the simplified explanations of complex phenomena offered by 
conspiracy theories may be more appealing to individuals with lower 
cognitive ability. 

Several studies have also specifically examined the associations between 
conspiracist ideation and the Big Five personality variables (Swami et al., 
2010, 2011). These studies have reported a significant negative associa¬ 
tion between conspiracist ideation and the Big Five factor of agreeable¬ 
ness (which reflects a tendency to be pleasant and accommodating in 
social situations), which was explained as a function of more disagree¬ 
able individuals being more suspicious and antagonistic towards others 
(Swami et al., 2010). In addition, there also appears to be a reliable asso¬ 
ciation between conspiracist ideation and higher openness to experience 
scores (which reflects a preference for intellectual variety and stimula¬ 
tion). Swami et al. (2010) have suggested that more open individuals 
may show a greater appreciation for unique, unusual, or challenging 
ideas, or that their proclivity for new ideas may result in greater exposure 
to conspiracist ideas. However, it is important to note that the significant 
associations between conspiracist ideation and the Big Five variables that 
have been uncovered to date have generally been small (r < .15). 

A smaller body of work has also examined the associations between 
conspiracist ideation and psychopathological individual difference traits. 
For example, Swami et al. (2011) reported significant associations 
between conspiracist ideation and paranormal beliefs, though not super¬ 
stitious beliefs. Conversely, however, another study using confirmatory 
analysis showed that belief in conspiracy theories was associated with 


228 


Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


schizotypy and paranoid ideation, but not paranormal beliefs (Darwin, 
Neave, and Holmes, 2011). Other related work has suggested that belief 
in conspiracy theories is associated with attempts to cope with existen¬ 
tial threat and death-related anxiety (Newheiser, Farias, and Tausch, 
2011). Such findings, when taken together, suggest that conspiracy the¬ 
ories may afford individuals a means of maintaining meaning or control 
in their lives. 


What is to be done? 

An important conclusion that can be derived from the above review of 
the literature is that conspiracy theories, far from being irrational or a 
sign of a pathological mind, in fact provide deep insights into the func¬ 
tioning of society. In this sense, it is important to acknowledge the roles 
that conspiracy theories play for those who disseminate and accept them, 
particularly in terms of empowerment in times of crisis and tragedy 
(Swami and Coles, 2010; Waters, 1997). Taken to its logical conclu¬ 
sion, it might be argued that conspiracy theories are a powerful indicator 
of dissatisfaction with aspects of governance, society, or politics. Only 
by understanding the roots of conspiracist ideation and its function in 
society can scholars and practitioners truly begin to address the more dif¬ 
ficult problem of challenging false, unjustified, and harmful conspiracist 
ideation (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). 

Even so, when it comes to the question of dealing with conspiracy 
theories, scholarly opinion appears to be mixed. On the one hand, some 
scholars have suggested that conspiracy theories have a beneficial role to 
play for societies (Clarke, 2002). For example, insofar as conspiracy the¬ 
ories reveal anomalies, inconsistencies, or ambiguities in official accounts 
of important events, they may sometimes reveal real conspiracies (e.g., 
the Watergate Hotel room used by the Democratic National Commit¬ 
tee was indeed bugged by Republican officials, on instructions from the 
White House). In addition, to the extent that conspiracy theorists press 
governments for better explanations of an event, it can lead to better 
demands for, as well as actually improved, transparency in government 
affairs (Clarke, 2002; Leman, 2007; Swami and Coles, 2010). 

Other scholars have offered similar arguments. Miller (2002) suggests 
that, in some instances, the means of addressing the credibility of gov¬ 
ernance are severely limited. In such scenarios, conspiracy theories may 
provide individuals with a public opportunity to challenge aspects of gov¬ 
ernance that may be otherwise circumscribed. Similarly, Fenster (1999) 
views conspiracy theories as populist narratives that pit “the people” in 


Conspiracy theories 


229 


opposition to “the power bloc” and afford space for the former to ques¬ 
tion and theorize on the distribution of power in contemporary societies. 
As Fenster (1999, p. 109) writes, conspiracy theories “must be recog¬ 
nized as a cultural practice that attempts to map, in narrative form, the 
trajectories and effects of power.” 

Moreover, far from promoting social withdrawal or political inac¬ 
tion, conspiracy theories may foster and promote political mobilization 
(Saucier, Akers, Shen-Miller et al., 2009). Fenster (1999) believes that 
the narratives of conspiracy theories contain the beginnings of social 
movements that can be a force for positive change. In a similar vein, 
Waters (1997, p. 123) argues that, insofar as conspiracy theories help 
explain misfortunes by attributing them to the planned actions of oth¬ 
ers, they should be seen “as the ultimate recognition of agency in social 
action.” Others have noted the power of conspiracy theories to foster sol¬ 
idarity among previously disparate groups and to provide new forms of 
authority in spaces that have been vacated by faith in traditional author¬ 
ities (Goldberg, 2001; Sasson, 1995). 

However, other scholars, as well as some of those cited above, have 
noted the very real limitations of conspiracy theories as a force for change. 
For example, Goldberg (2001) acknowledges that conspiracy theories 
can be empowering in times of crisis and tragedy, such as a terrorist 
attack or a financial crisis, but also argues that they actively erode faith in 
governance. By continually questioning authority and by closing the door 
to compromise, conspiracy theorists weaken the ability of governments 
to govern. Similarly, some scholars have noted that the simplistic nature 
of many conspiracy theories means that they often easily succumb to 
exclusionary narratives (Basham, 2003). In such cases, conspiracy the¬ 
ories not only lose any power to constructively change society, but also 
harm society with negative messages (Fenster, 1999; Miller, 2002). In 
short, conspiracy theories often have the potential to sow discord, and, 
worse still, when actors (whether conspiracy theorists or their detractors) 
move on unfounded beliefs, it can result in mistrust and violence. 

Other scholars have likewise noted the many negative practical out¬ 
comes of subscribing to conspiracy theories, particularly among select 
populations. For example, several research groups have focused on the 
conspiracy theories held by some individuals that HIV/AIDS and birth 
control are plots against African-Americans (Bird and Bogart, 2003, 
2005; Parsons, Simmons, Shinhoster et al., 1999; Thorburn and Bogart, 
2005; Turner and Darity, 1973). Regardless of whether or not such 
conspiracy theories are justified (consider, for example, the previous 
unethical research involving African-Americans, such as the Tuskegee 
syphilis study; Thomas and Quinn, 1991), it has been shown that belief 


230 


Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


in such conspiracy theories is associated with less consistent pregnancy 
prevention and condom use and poorer knowledge about HIV/AIDS and 
AIDS-prevention programs (Bogart and Thorburn, 2006). 

Finally, it is important to question the potential of conspiracy theories 
as a force for change in itself. Fenster (1999, p. 109) is perhaps most 
vocal in this respect, arguing that conspiracy theories frequently “leave 
unsettled the resolution to the question of power that [they] attempt 
to address.” Although a degree of skepticism is vital for the healthy 
functioning of societies, conspiracy theorists typically question structures 
of power without offering a real alternative to those structures. That is, 
by blaming conspiratorial agents, conspiracy theories in fact help those 
who seek to absolve modes of governance from blame in perpetuating 
and accentuating injustice. Moreover, because many conspiracy theorists 
deny the legitimacy of authority, they become trapped in exclusionary 
politics that, over time, becomes both polarized and polarizing. To the 
extent that conspiracy theories are unjustified or baseless, they may also 
divert attention from real political issues, undermine democratic debate, 
and weaken associated movements for change. 

Given such negative aspects, scholars are now paying greater atten¬ 
tion to the eradication of conspiracy theories. Not surprisingly, conspir¬ 
acy theories have been found to be very difficult to eliminate, precisely 
because of their nature (Keeley, 1999; see also Kramer, 1994). For exam¬ 
ple, to the extent that conspiracy theorists segregate themselves both 
informationally and physically, and to the extent that they are already 
distrustful of authority, it becomes much harder to engage with conspir¬ 
acy theorists and to challenge their claims. Even where dialogue has been 
established, the fact that many conspiracy theorists “consider the alleged 
conspirators to be Evil Incarnate” (Bale, 2007, p. 51) means that the 
potential for compromise is severely stunted. 

Nevertheless, Sunstein and Vermeule (2009, p. 218) have proposed 
that, when dealing with conspiracy theories, governments have a number 
of options at their disposal: 

(1) Ban conspiracy theories outright. 

(2) Impose a tax (financial or otherwise) on those who disseminate con¬ 
spiracy theories. 

(3) Engage in “counterspeech,” where justified and sound arguments 
are used to discredit conspiracy theories. 

(4) Formally hire private parties to engage in counterspeech. 

(5) Engage in informal communication with conspiracy theorists, en¬ 
couraging them to help. 

However, the utility of these suggested actions is unknown: banning 
conspiracy theories or taxing those who disseminate conspiracy theories 


Conspiracy theories 


231 


may not only prove difficult to implement (e.g., from a legal point of view) 
but may also serve to enhance the appeal of conspiracy theories. On the 
other hand, Sunstein and Vermeule’s (2009) suggestion that governments 
actively try to break up extremist groups that supply conspiracy theories 
by “cognitively infiltrating” those groups through methods (3), (4), and 
(5) above may be easier to implement. More specifically, “government 
agents and their allies (acting either virtually or in real space, either openly 
or anonymously) will undermine the crippled epistemology of believers 
by planting doubts about the theories and stylized facts that circulate 
within such groups, thereby introducing beneficial cognitive diversity” 
(Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009, p. 219). 

Implicit in this latter strategy is the assumption that conspiracy theories 
reflect uncritical acceptance of knowledge and that the provision of more 
accurate information may counter the crippled epistemology that char¬ 
acterizes many conspiracy theorists. To date, however, it remains unclear 
whether belief in conspiracy theories diminishes in the face of counter¬ 
evidence (e.g., Cook, 2003, who argues that the conspiracist mind will 
not accept normal modes of evidence). Newheiser et al. (2011) have 
provided some evidence that counter-evidence may be useful in reducing 
conspiracist ideation, although the effects may be stronger for individuals 
who already endorse a competing belief system, such as religion. More¬ 
over, it seems likely that conspiracy theorists would not openly invite 
“cognitive infiltration” and may view such attempts, if uncovered, as fur¬ 
ther evidence as a conspiratorial plot. The strategy outlined by Sunstein 
and Vermeule (2009) further assumes the existence of a well-meaning 
government, acting in the best interests of its citizenry, which may or 
may not be the case. 

Others begin from a different starting point. Goldberg (2004, pp. 259- 
60), for example, sees conspiracy theories as reflecting diminished faith 
in governance; in turn, if conspiracy theories are to be tackled, then it will 
require governments that are transparent, open, and truly democratic: 

While candour and openness deter rumour and allegation, an unthinking and 
imperious practice of secrecy instinctively raises suspicion. Overreaction, official 
deception, and explanations that intentionally obscure provide opportunities for 
the conspiracy theorists. They thrive on public disillusionment and the loss of 
faith in national leaders and institutions. In such an atmosphere, intelligence 
failure readily mutates into conspiracy. 

In Goldberg’s view, it is important to begin by understanding what con¬ 
spiracies say about the problems of governance so that those issues can 
be adequately and appropriately addressed. By targeting intelligence fail¬ 
ures and by assessing aspects of governance that could be improved, 


232 


Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham 


Goldberg suggests that belief in conspiracy theories should begin to 
diminish. 

Others have applied a similar perspective in suggesting that conspiracy 
theories can begin to be tackled by addressing the causes of popular dis¬ 
content. Swami and Coles (2010), for example, have suggested that the 
high prevalence, among British Muslims, of conspiracy theories about the 
London bombings of July 7, 2005 reflects, in part at least, the alienation 
of British Muslims from mainstream politics and governance. The solu¬ 
tion, then, is not to further marginalize such groups, but rather to open 
up spaces for dialogue and to allow all citizens to actively play a role in 
governance. Indeed, there is evidence among African-American samples 
to suggest that belief in conspiracy theories is lower among individuals 
who believe they can influence the political process (Parsons et al., 1999). 
In short, then, until such time as marginalized groups are allowed to par¬ 
ticipate in, and actively shape, governance, belief in conspiracy theories 
may remain high among some sections of society. 

What, then, is to be done? Extending Goldberg’s (2001, 2004) line of 
reasoning, we contend that blaming (whether implicitly or explicitly) con¬ 
spiracy theorists for failing to participate on equal grounds with authority 
may prove fruitless. Rather, a more promising strategy would be to ensure 
that all forms of governance are transparent, open, and democratic to the 
fullest extent. In this view, conspiracy theorists are neither privy to any 
hidden truths nor psychopathological in their beliefs. Rather, conspiracy 
theories are extensions of the dissatisfaction and disaffection with modes 
of governance in many societies. That is, conspiracy theorists should be 
seen as desperately attempting to make accountable those governments 
that they believe, often with some justification, to have taken part in some 
form of deception. By extension, only real democratic change would set 
in place the foundations for a society in which harmful and unjustified 
conspiracy theories are weakened and ultimately extinguished. 


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13 The social dimension of belief 
in conspiracy theories 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


Belief in conspiracy theories is a widespread societal phenomenon. For 
instance, in 2004, according to a Zogby International poll, 49% of New 
York City residents believed that the US government knew in advance 
that the 9/11 terrorist strikes were coming and consciously failed to act. 
Moreover, 22% of Canadian citizens in 2006 believed that Al-Qaeda 
had little or nothing to do with the 9/11 terrorist strikes (for details, see 
Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). Likewise, in 1963 about two-thirds of US 
citizens believed in a conspiracy theory regarding the John F. Kennedy 
assassination, a figure that was still as high as 56% in 1991 (Pipes, 1997, 
p. 15). These statistics underscore that belief in conspiracy theories is not 
a trivial phenomenon that is exclusive to a few pathological individuals, 
but instead deserves the serious research attention of the social sciences 
(see also Robins and Post, 1999). 

In the present contribution, we define belief in conspiracy theories 
as explanatory beliefs about a number of actors who join together in 
secret agreement, and try to achieve a hidden goal which is perceived as 
unlawful or malevolent (Zonis and Joseph, 1994, pp. 448-9). One of the 
main research findings on this phenomenon is that conspiracy beliefs are 
monological in nature: One conspiracy theory reinforces other conspir- 
ational ideas, making individuals who believe in one conspiracy theory 
more likely to also believe in other conspiracy theories (Goertzel, 1994; 
Lewandowski, Oberauer, and Gignac, 2013; Swami, Coles, Stieger et al., 
2011). A recent study reveals that this monological belief system even 
applies to conspiracy theories that are mutually exclusive: For instance, 
beliefs that Princess Diana staged her own death are positively correlated 
with beliefs that Princess Diana was assassinated (Wood, Douglas, and 
Sutton, 2012). 

Recent empirical studies have examined conspiracy beliefs from vari¬ 
ous perpectives. Consistent with the idea that conspiracy beliefs are part 
of a monological belief system, many studies have been conducted on 
how stable individual differences predict people’s susceptibility to such 


237 



238 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


beliefs. This line of research indicates that conspiracy beliefs are pre¬ 
dicted by, for instance, increased hostility, increased support for demo¬ 
cratic principles, lower self-esteem, lower crystallized intelligence, lower 
interpersonal trust, and increased paranormal beliefs (e.g., Abalakina- 
Paap, Stephan, Craig et al ., 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2011). 
Furthermore, various studies have focused on the underlying motivations 
for people to believe in conspiracy theories. This line of research assumes 
that conspiracy beliefs are a motivated response that originates from peo¬ 
ple’s basic sense-making desires, leading them to actively make assump¬ 
tions about the root causes of distressing social events (Hofstadter, 1966; 
cf. Kramer, 1998). Empirical findings indeed suggest that experiencing 
a threat to control makes people more suspicious about the possibility 
of conspiracies (Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010; Whitson and 
Galinsky, 2008). Likewise, the salience of uncertainty stimulates reason¬ 
ing about conspiracies, potentially increasing such beliefs when political 
or corporate leaders are considered to be immoral (van Prooijen and 
Jostmann, 2013). These findings indeed underscore the sense-making 
function of conspiracy beliefs, as threats to control and feelings of uncer¬ 
tainty have frequently been noted to prompt mental efforts to make sense 
of societal events (Heine, Proulx, and Vohs, 2006; Park, 2010; van den 
Bos, 2009). 

Although these insights are important, the emerging field of research 
on belief in conspiracy theories has paid relatively little attention to the 
group-dynamic context in which these beliefs might emerge and be sus¬ 
tained. Notably, conspiracy theories are characterized by an intergroup 
context where a powerful out-group threatens the well-being of the per- 
ceiver’s fellow in-group members (Kramer and Messick, 1998). This 
observation distinguishes conspiracy beliefs in substantial ways from 
other, more interpersonal forms of paranoia. The present chapter is 
designed to make a novel contribution by illuminating the implications 
of the social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories. Specifically, we 
pose the question of what group-dynamic processes characterize peo¬ 
ple’s susceptibility to belief in conspiracy theories, and how these group 
dynamics differentiate the sense-making processes underlying conspiracy 
beliefs from the sense-making processes underlying more interpersonal 
forms of paranoia. 


Conspiracy beliefs as perceived intergroup threat 

The main assumption that inspired the present chapter is that conspir¬ 
acy beliefs are intergroup beliefs that are characterized by a maladaptive 
method of “us versus them” reasoning. In particular, most conspiracy 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


239 


beliefs can be framed in terms of beliefs about how a powerful and evil 
out-group meets in secret, designing a plot that is harmful to one’s in¬ 
group. Common examples of such a conspiring out-group are the political 
elite (e.g., the US government), corporate leaders (e.g., managers from 
within the pharmaceutical industry, or oil companies), scientists (e.g., 
scientists studying climate change or evolution), or, more generally, an 
out-group that a perceiver fears or despises (e.g., Muslims, Jews). More¬ 
over, the alleged conspiracy is typically held accountable for a threat that 
is targeted not just at the perceiver but also at the perceiver’s entire in¬ 
group (e.g., fellow citizens). For instance, people may infer conspiracies 
from events that are truly threatening to a collective of people (e.g., a 
terrorist strike), but they may also perceive a threat in events that do 
not impose physical harm, but are nevertheless assumed to be deceptive 
(e.g., beliefs that the NASA faked the Moon landings, or beliefs about 
a governmental cover-up of evidence for the existence of extraterrestrial 
beings). Despite this wide variety in possible out-groups and sources of 
threat, conspiracy beliefs typically converge into assumptions about the 
existence of a powerful out-group that actively seeks to deceive, benefit 
from, or hurt members of one’s in-group. 

The idea that conspiracy beliefs are characterized by an out-group 
that is perceived to threaten one’s in-group has strong ties with various 
classic social-psychological theories. Intergroup threat generally has been 
defined in terms of situations where “one group’s actions, beliefs, or char¬ 
acteristics challenge the goal attainment or well-being of another group” 
(Riek, Mania, and Gaertner, 2006, p. 336). Such perceptions of threat 
can take on many forms, such as competition over existing resources 
(cf. realistic group-conflict theory; Sherif and Sherif, 1969), conflict¬ 
ing cultural values (Sears, 1988), and intergroup anxiety (Stephan and 
Stephan, 2000). Among the most commonly found consequences of 
intergroup threat are negative attitudes to and emotions about the rel¬ 
evant out-group, as reflected in measures of, for instance, prejudice, 
hostility, and anxiety (Riek et al., 2006). The detrimental consequences 
of intergroup conflict and threat for perceptions of the out-group are 
also described in broader theoretical frameworks such as social iden¬ 
tity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979), self-categorization theory (Turner 
and Reynolds, 2012), or optimal distinctiveness theory (Brewer, 2012). 
It seems a relatively small conceptual step from such negative out-group 
attitudes to beliefs that out-group members are deliberately conspiring to 
harm the in-group (see also Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadnax et al., 1999). 
Taken together, these considerations suggest that it is theoretically mean¬ 
ingful to conceptualize conspiracy beliefs in terms of perceived intergroup 
threat. 


240 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

This intergroup nature distinguishes conspiracy beliefs from more 
interpersonal forms of paranoia (Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992). Whereas 
such interpersonal paranoia involves suspicious beliefs about the extent 
to which others try to hurt a perceiver personally, conspiracy beliefs 
constitute a form of collective paranoia that involves suspicions about 
the extent to which another group is trying to deceive or hurt one’s 
fellow in-group members. This suggests that, contrary to interpersonal 
paranoia, the sense-making processes underlying conspiracy beliefs are 
guided by strong perceptions of intergroup boundaries. Drawing on 
theoretical insights regarding intergroup conflict and threat (e.g., Riek 
et al., 2006; Sherif and Sherif, 1969; Tajfel and Turner, 1979), we pro¬ 
pose in the present chapter that conspiracy beliefs are likely to be asso¬ 
ciated with feelings of rejection by the out-group, while at the same 
time being linked to a strong feeling of connectedness with the in¬ 
group that is perceived to be under threat. These dynamics distinguish 
conspiracy beliefs from interpersonal paranoia, where perceivers typi¬ 
cally feel personally threatened by their fellow in-group members, and 
hence do not experience such a psychological sense of connectedness 
with them. In the following, we first more elaborately contrast inter¬ 
personal paranoia to conspiracy beliefs - which are a form of collective 
paranoia (Kramer and Messick, 1998) - in order to outline more specif¬ 
ically the unique social features of conspiracy beliefs. After that, we state 
propositions based on the social dimension of conspiracy beliefs, and 
review the preliminary evidence for these propositions in the research 
literature. 


Interpersonal paranoia versus conspiracy beliefs 

Interpersonal paranoia 

Interpersonal paranoia refers to the self-relevant suspicious and distrust¬ 
ful beliefs that one may have about the evil nature of other people’s inten¬ 
tions and behaviors. We use the label “interpersonal” here to illuminate 
the distinction from conspiracy beliefs, but this phenomenon frequently 
has been referred to as simply “paranoia” (Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992; 
see also Combs and Penn, 2004). The term paranoia is often associ¬ 
ated with mental illness. Indeed, among some individuals, paranoia is 
severely delusional, making it a psychiatric diagnosis, and a symptom of 
many clinical disorders (e.g., Bentall, Corcoran, Howard et al., 2001). 
But milder variants of interpersonal paranoia are also common among 
ordinary people, and can be construed as erroneous perceptions that are 
driven by exaggerated distrust and suspicion of others (Kramer, 1998). 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


241 


To illustrate this, typical questions to measure interpersonal paranoia ask 
for participants’ feelings of being followed by others, their beliefs that oth¬ 
ers have hidden motives to display friendly behavior, or their beliefs that 
others are talking about them behind their back (see the paranoia scale; 
Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992). A related conceptualization of interper¬ 
sonal paranoia is the “sinister-attribution error,” which is defined as the 
tendency of individuals to “overattribute personalistic and malevolent 
motives and intentions to other’s actions” (Kramer, 1994, p. 201). A 
central feature of interpersonal paranoia, as well as of the related sinister- 
attribution error, is its self-referential nature: The actions of other people 
or groups are directly aimed at a perceiver personally. 

Due to this self-referential aspect, it has been noted that public self- 
consciousness increases interpersonally paranoid beliefs. This link has 
been established empirically by Fenigstein and Vanable (1992), who 
found consistent relations between public self-consciousness and the 
paranoia scale, as well as with measures assessing the extent to which par¬ 
ticipants felt watched when performing tasks. Likewise, it has been argued 
that people who feel different or “stand out” within a group - and hence 
experience elevated public self-consciousness - tend to overestimate the 
extent to which they are being evaluated by their fellow group members 
(Kramer, 1998). This conceptualization of public self-consciousness sug¬ 
gests that interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon whereby 
a perceiver feels like an outsider who is closely monitored, and possibly 
threatened, by others. 

The assertion that interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phe¬ 
nomenon was underscored in a study by Kramer (1994), who tested 
the role of tenure in organizations on the sinister-attribution error. The 
participants were either first- or second-year master of business admin¬ 
istration (MBA) students, who read a series of vignettes describing how 
they were victimized by another first- or second-year MBA student. For 
each vignette, they were given two possible attributions for the perpetra¬ 
tor’s behavior - one was a personalistic attribution that implied that the 
perpetrator intentionally sought to hurt the target, and the other was a 
nonpersonalistic attribution that implied that the perpetrator harmed the 
target unintentionally. The results revealed more interpersonal paranoia 
among newcomers. First-year MBA students made more personalistic 
attributions than second-year MBA students for the same behaviors. 
Moreover, this effect was strongest when the perpetrator was a second- 
year MBA student. These results suggest that people who are new in 
a group - and hence experience heightened self-consciousness, particu¬ 
larly when interacting with people who have been longer in the group - 
experience more paranoid cognitions in interpersonal interactions. 


242 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


Interpersonal paranoia reflects fundamental psychological assump¬ 
tions about the generally malevolent nature of other people’s intentions; 
therefore, it stands to reason that interpersonal paranoia is related to 
conspiracy beliefs. As a case in point, it is likely that both interpersonal 
paranoia and conspiracy beliefs are to some extent grounded in the “myth 
of self-interest,” which states that people have a tendency to overinterpret 
the extent to which other people’s behavior is driven by selfish motivations 
(Miller and Ratner, 1998). For instance, the myth of self-interest may be 
relied on when people deal with incomplete information to understand 
others’ behavior. In many social situations, people do not know how other 
people behaved, and they “fill in the blanks” with assumptions about self¬ 
ishness (Vuolevi and van Lange, 2010). These arguments suggest impor¬ 
tant conceptual relations between interpersonal paranoia and conspiracy 
beliefs, which both are characterized by mistrustful expectations that 
are related to uncertainty (Kramer, 1998; van Prooijen and Jostmann, 
2013). Indeed, empirical studies found moderate but significant corre¬ 
lations between paranoia and conspiracy beliefs (e.g., Darwin, Neave, 
and Holmes, 2011; see also Wilson and Rose, this volume). Hence, it is 
important to stress that in the present chapter we do not intend to argue 
that the processes underlying interpersonal paranoia are fully distinct 
from the processes underlying conspiracy beliefs. But at the same time, it 
must be recognized that the correlation between interpersonal paranoia 
and conspiracy beliefs is typically far from perfect, and we argue that this 
is due to the social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories. 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 

Whereas interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon (Fenig- 
stein and Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1998), belief in conspiracy theories 
typically is a between-group phenomenon. One of the implications of 
this distinction is that the processes driving interpersonal paranoia must 
be conceptualized at the group level to predict conspiracy beliefs. For 
instance, whereas feeling like an outsider within a group may predict 
interpersonal paranoia (Kramer, 1994), it is less clear whether such feel¬ 
ings of being excluded by fellow in-group members also predict con¬ 
spiracy beliefs. After all, conspiracy beliefs emerge out of sense-making 
processes in the context of an intergroup threat, and it stands to reason 
that one needs to experience some concern for the well-being of fellow 
in-group members in order to be motivated to make sense of social fac¬ 
tors threatening to damage that well-being. Instead, feeling that one’s 
entire group is marginalized in a broader social context - which may 
prompt feelings of intergroup threat - is likely to be a strong predictor of 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


243 


conspiracy beliefs. Indeed, empirical evidence supports the notion that 
conspiracy beliefs are stronger among marginalized minority groups in 
society than among the dominant majority group. 

An example of this phenomenon can be found in studies compar¬ 
ing conspiracy beliefs among African-Americans and those among white 
Americans. Various authors have noted that African-Americans are more 
likely to believe in conspiracy theories than white Americans (e.g., 
Turner, 1993). An empirical demonstration of this effect was provided 
by Crocker et al. (1999), who compared black and white US college stu¬ 
dents on thirteen common conspiracy beliefs about how the US govern¬ 
ment tries to harm the African-American community (e.g., belief that 
the virus that causes AIDS was created in a laboratory to infect black 
people; or belief that the US government deliberately assigns the death 
penalty more to black males than to white males). The results indicated 
that black college students were more strongly inclined to believe these 
conspiracy theories that are directly targeted at their in-group than white 
college students. Moreover, these findings were attributable to percep¬ 
tions of system blame - that is, the extent to which realistic problems of 
the black community are perceived as a result of prejudice and discrim¬ 
ination. The latter finding underscores the role of perceived intergroup 
threat in conspiracy beliefs (cf. Riek et al., 2006). 

Various other studies support both the robustness of this phenomenon, 
as well as its malevolent consequences for the black community in the 
USA. The robustness of this phenomenon was illuminated in a study by 
Simmons and Parsons (2005) among African-Americans. These authors 
drew an empirical comparison between the black “elite” (i.e., locally 
elected officials in the state of Louisiana) and the “masses” (i.e., a sam¬ 
ple of churchgoers). The results indicated that these groups do not differ 
in their endorsement of conspiracy beliefs. These findings reveal that low- 
and high-status members of a marginalized group are equally susceptible 
to conspiracy beliefs, suggesting that it is perceived group deprivation, 
not perceived personal deprivation, that drives these beliefs. Moreover, 
conspiracy beliefs may be harmful not only to the group but also to the 
well-being of individual group members. A study by Thornburn and 
Bogart (2005) illuminates these individually harmful consequences of 
group-based conspiracy beliefs. In a sample of African-Americans, they 
investigated conspiracy beliefs about contraceptives (e.g., the belief that 
birth control is a governmental plot to wipe out the African-American 
population). Although the precise numbers varied per specific conspir¬ 
acy belief, roughly one-third of respondents indicated agreement with 
items referring to birth control as a means to control or reduce the black 
population, as well as with items expressing doubt about the safety of 


244 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 

contraceptives. These conspiracy beliefs were a strong predictor of atti¬ 
tudes towards contraceptives, as well as contraceptive use, in both men 
and women. These findings underscore that group-based conspiracy 
beliefs can have detrimental individual consequences, such as (in this 
particular example) the likelihood of unintended pregnancies, and the 
spread of sexually transmitted diseases. 

A feeling of group marginalization is one possible antecedent of per¬ 
ceived intergroup threat, but it must be noted that other antecedents of 
intergroup threat - such as prejudice, intergroup hostility, and ideology - 
are also a potent source of conspiracy beliefs. For instance, Swami (2012) 
found evidence for Jewish conspiracy beliefs in a Malaysian sample 
(example items referred, for instance, to beliefs that Jews cause eco¬ 
nomic crises in Malaysia for their own end, and that Jews are attempting 
to establish a secret world government). These beliefs were particularly 
predicted by indicators of prejudice and racism, such as anti-Israeli atti¬ 
tudes, social dominance orientation, and right-wing authoritarianism. It 
has more generally been noted that societal or ethnic groups that in the 
past have frequently been the target of discrimination or collective vic¬ 
timization (e.g., Jews. Muslims. Gypsies) have also frequently been the 
accused actor in many conspiracy theories (Pipes, 1997). In a related 
vein, differing political ideologies may also pose a source of intergroup 
threat, and hence a basis for belief in conspiracy theories when mak¬ 
ing sense of threatening events. This idea was illustrated by Wright and 
Arbuthnot (1974), who, in a US sample, assessed perceptions of the 
Watergate affair before the Senate hearings in 1973 (i.e., before Nixon’s 
personal involvement was proven). The results revealed that Democrats 
were more suspicious about the involvement of high officials, including 
the president, than Republicans were. This case may be special in the 
sense that it pertained to a conspiracy theory that eventually turned out 
to be true, but that is beside the point of the current contribution. It was 
intergroup threat, caused by political ideology, that stimulated endorse¬ 
ment of these beliefs. 

In sum, belief in conspiracy theories is to some extent rooted in the 
psychological dynamics underlying intergroup threat. These dynamics 
suggest two core propositions that underline the unique features that dis¬ 
tinguish conspiracy beliefs from interpersonal paranoia. The first propo¬ 
sition is that conspiracy beliefs emerge through feelings of collective vul¬ 
nerability that are caused by rejection by powerful out-group members; 
this in contrast with interpersonal paranoia that emerges as a function of 
feeling singled out for rejection in an interpersonal or within-group set¬ 
ting (Kramer, 1994). Indeed, these negative intergroup perceptions are 
a defining element of intergroup threat, particularly when the out-group 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


245 


is perceived as powerful (cf. Riek et al., 2006). One may therefore predict 
that conspiracy beliefs are related to feelings of oppression or exclusion by 
the powerful groups that are the suspected actors in conspiracy theories, 
such as politicians and corporate leaders. The second proposition is that 
conspiracy theories are associated with a strong sense of connectedness 
with victimized in-group members (e.g., fellow citizens), as reflected in, 
for instance, an activated social self-construal that emphasizes similari¬ 
ties between self and in-group members, perspective-taking efforts, and 
a concern for the well-being of other citizens that are victimized by the 
perceived conspiracy. This second proposition is underscored by various 
theories on intergroup perceptions and conflict, which assume that the 
existence of a threatening out-group increases within-group identifica¬ 
tion, cohesion, and harmony (e.g., Sherif and Sherif, 1969; Tajfel and 
Turner, 1979). In the following section, we discuss the evidence for both 
propositions in turn. 


Feeling rejected by a powerful out-group 

The first proposition - that conspiracy beliefs are associated with feel¬ 
ings of rejection by a powerful out-group - corresponds with a frequently 
noted characteristic of conspiracy believers. They typically feel that they 
are not in touch with, or that they are being oppressed by, the powerful 
out-group that is accused of secret conspiracy formation (e.g., the politi¬ 
cal elite). In his seminal work, Hofstadter (1966) had already noted that 
conspiracy beliefs predominantly emerge because citizens feel powerless 
or voiceless in the political debate. This lack of participation may be 
associated with the experience of lacking control, which has been found 
to predict conspiracy beliefs in various studies (Sullivan et al., 2010; 
Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). But more generally, one may expect a 
relation between conspiracy beliefs and variables that suggest feelings of 
rejection by power holders. 

Such a relation was supported in a variety of correlational studies. For 
instance, Goertzel (1994) found a correlation between anomie - opera¬ 
tionalized as feelings of discontent with common institutions in society - 
and conspiracy beliefs. Interestingly, these feelings of anomie partially 
mediated the link between minority status (i.e., black vs. white respon¬ 
dents) and conspiracy beliefs. It thus seems that the previously described 
phenomenon that minority groups in society are more susceptible to con¬ 
spiracy beliefs can be partly attributed to their feelings of being rejected 
by legitimate and powerful institutions in society. 

Other studies also reported robust correlations between belief in con¬ 
spiracy theories and indicators of feelings of rejection by power holders. 


246 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paid A. M. van Lange 

For instance, Abalakina-Paap et al. (1999) replicated the finding that 
anomie is correlated with conspiracy beliefs. Moreover, various studies 
found significant correlations between conspiracy beliefs and variables 
that arguably indicate a feeling of rejection by power holders. Notably, 
two such variables are political cynicism and attitudes to authority, and 
research robustly indicates that higher political cynicism and more nega¬ 
tive attitudes to authority are associated with stronger conspiracy beliefs 
(Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 2010; Swami et al., 2011). 
Naturally, these findings are limited by their correlational nature, and 
an important avenue for future research is to complement these findings 
by testing the causal effect of rejection by a powerful out-group on con¬ 
spiracy beliefs. But the findings presented here are consistent with our 
first proposition, which was derived from a model positing conspiracy 
beliefs as a consequence of perceived intergroup threat. This perception 
of intergroup threat may be fueled by the feeling that one is alienated 
from, or directly rejected by, a powerful out-group. 


Feeling connected with the in-group 

The second proposition - that conspiracy beliefs are associated with the 
feeling of being psychologically connected with one’s fellow in-group 
members - admittedly is most speculative in our line of reasoning given 
the paucity of published evidence for it. Nevertheless, based on well- 
accepted theoretical insights, various published studies on related topics, 
and preliminary findings in our own lab, we will make the case that 
conspiracy beliefs are to some extent driven by a perception of the self 
as connected with the victimized or threatened citizens. This statement 
is consistent with, for instance, realistic group-conflict theory (Sherif 
and Sherif, 1969) and social-identity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979) 
that describe the within-group dynamics of intergroup threat, leading 
to increased identification and cohesion. Moreover, our second proposi¬ 
tion is in line with more specific theorizing on conspiracy beliefs which 
assumes that such beliefs originate from a desire to make sense of dis¬ 
tressing events (Hofstadter, 1966; Sullivan et al., 2010; van Prooijen and 
Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). It stands to reason that 
people find societal events particularly distressing - thereby eliciting the 
sense-making processes underlying conspiracy beliefs - if they are per¬ 
ceived to be harmful to citizens that they feel psychologically connected 
with. After all, such psychological connections imply that the others are 
part of their own self-concept, leading them to experience events that 
harm fellow citizens as indirectly also harming themselves. Moreover, if 
a perceiver feels detached from fellow citizens, and is hence indifferent 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


247 


to the suffering or possible deception that is imposed upon them, the 
perceiver is less likely to engage in sense-making processes. 

These theoretical notions are reminiscent of just-world theory (Lerner 
and Miller, 1978), a theory that is specifically designed to understand 
how people make sense of the suffering of innocent others. This the¬ 
ory posits the fundamental belief that people generally get what they 
deserve - and hence, deserve what they get - implying that good things 
happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. Seeing 
how an innocent person is victimized poses a threat to this just-world 
belief, and prompts a motivation to restore this belief. One possible way 
to restore just-world beliefs is by reinterpreting the event so that it no 
longer appears to be unjust, such as through victim blaming. Believing 
that victims somehow deserve their fate can make their suffering seem 
deserved (Hafer, 2000; Lerner and Simmons, 1966; van Prooijen and van 
den Bos, 2009). Likewise, people may restore just-world beliefs through 
perceived benefits - that is, the belief that the victimization event has 
long-term benefits for the victim (e.g., assuming that the incident made 
the victim a better person in the long run). These benefit perceptions 
portray the event as one that may have been unfair, but nevertheless had 
meaning and purpose (Warner and Branscombe, 2011). As such, mental 
strategies such as victim blaming and benefit finding serve a comparable 
mental function to belief in conspiracy theories - that is, to understand, 
and make sense of, distressing social events (Hofstadter, 1966; van Prooi¬ 
jen and Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). Of relevance to 
the current discussion, Lerner and Miller (1978, p. 1031) noted that 
these various sense-making strategies are particularly prominent when 
one is confronted by the victimization of others that one feels psycho¬ 
logically connected with. They argued that people are mostly concerned 
about injustice in their own direct social environment, and relatively less 
so about injustices elsewhere that have little relevance to their own fate. 

Empirical findings indeed support the more general idea that a psy¬ 
chological connection through a shared social identity may stimulate 
perceivers’ sense-making efforts when they are confronted by events that 
are harmful to others. For instance, Correia, Vala, and Aguiar (2007) 
found evidence that people’s just world is threatened more strongly by 
the victimization of an in-group member than an out-group member. 
This stronger threat prompts a stronger need to make sense of events to 
the extent that one perceives the self as connected to the victim, which 
may paradoxically lead to more negative reactions under some conditions. 
This was illustrated by Novak and Lerner (1968), who manipulated how 
attitudinally similar or dissimilar participants were to another partici¬ 
pant, and then received information that this other participant was either 


248 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


normal or emotionally disturbed. The results revealed that, when the 
other was emotionally disturbed, participants were less willing to inter¬ 
act with the similar other than with the dissimilar other. Similarly, van 
Prooijen and van den Bos (2009) primed participants with either the 
individual self (i.e., the part of the self-concept that stresses differen¬ 
tiation from others) or the social self (i.e., the part of the self-concept 
that stresses similarity with others). Subsequently, they were confronted 
with a crime victim that was either not threatening to just-world beliefs 
(i.e., the perpetrator was caught and hence got what he deserved) or 
threatening to just-world beliefs (i.e., the perpetrator was not caught and 
hence got away with his crime; cf. Hafer, 2000). The results showed 
that when the situation was threatening to just-world beliefs, particularly 
participants who were primed with the social self were inclined to blame 
the victim. Taken together, these findings underscore that observers are 
particularly motivated to make sense of events that are harmful to people 
that they feel connected to, even though this may sometimes result in 
increased negative perceptions of, or behaviors towards, these people. 

Preliminary findings in our own lab underscore that similar under¬ 
lying processes are relevant to explain conspiracy beliefs. For instance, 
van Prooijen and van Dijk (2012) provided participants with a bogus 
newspaper article in which an influential African opposition leader, who 
was about to win the upcoming election, was the victim of a car crash. 
They manipulated the size of the threat that was imposed by this event: 
The opposition leader either died in the crash, leading the election to 
be postponed until further notice (big threat), or survived the crash with 
only minor injuries, and the election would proceed as planned (small 
threat). Through perspective taking it was also varied how psychologically 
close or distant participants felt towards this event. Specifically, before 
reading the article, the participants were either instructed to take the per¬ 
spective of the citizens of the African country and to imagine that they 
were born in that country (perspective-taking condition), or they were 
instructed to evaluate the event as objectively as possible (control con¬ 
dition). The perspective-taking instructions increased the participants’ 
sense of identification with, and emotional involvement in, the African 
country. Importantly, the results revealed the strongest conspiracy beliefs 
following a big threat, but only among participants in the perspective¬ 
taking condition. Thus, instructions that increased the extent to which 
participants experienced the self as connected to the victims of a threat¬ 
ening event made participants more susceptible to conspiracy beliefs. 

In sum, one of the inferences from the general observation that con¬ 
spiracy beliefs can be conceptualized as a form of intergroup threat is that 
these beliefs are associated with a relatively strong sense of connectedness 


The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs 


249 


with the group that is perceived to be under threat. Although further 
study is necessary to provide more conclusive support for this theoretical 
proposition, it is at present consistent with various theoretical insights 
as well as with preliminary empirical findings. Such a sense of connect¬ 
edness with fellow group members underscores the social dimension of 
belief in conspiracy theories. 


Concluding remarks 

Inspired by theories on intergroup threat, the present chapter had the 
purpose of illuminating the social dimension of conspiracy beliefs, and 
how this social dimension distinguishes conspiracy beliefs from more 
interpersonal forms of paranoia. Two main propositions emerged. First, 
whereas interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon that is 
characterized by perceivers who feel excluded by fellow group members, 
conspiracy beliefs constitute a collective phenomenon that is character¬ 
ized by perceivers who believe that they and their group are oppressed 
and excluded by a powerful out-group. This distinction is reminiscent of 
theorizing on personal versus group (i.e., fraternal) deprivation, which 
pertains to the relative disadvantage that one perceives at either the per¬ 
sonal or group level. It is noteworthy that the consequences of these 
forms of deprivation differ substantially, as personal deprivation leads 
to inward-focused reactions such as anxiety and depression, whereas 
fraternal deprivation is more strongly associated with outward-oriented 
responses such as protest and collective action (e.g., Tyler, Boeckmann, 
Smith et ai, 1997, p. 27). As such, it is possible that conspiracy beliefs 
similarly are more likely to stimulate action tendencies in perceivers than 
interpersonal paranoia, a hypothesis that needs further testing. Indeed, 
one might speculate that conspiracy beliefs pose a more serious danger 
to society than interpersonal paranoia, as these action tendencies may 
potentially turn violent when conspiracy believers seek for ways to free 
their group from the oppression that they perceive. 

The second proposition that emerged in the present chapter is that, 
whereas interpersonal paranoia is likely to lead to feelings of individ¬ 
ual separation within a group, conspiracy beliefs are more likely to 
be associated with a sense of connectedness with in-group members. 
Although this point has not been explicitly recognized in theorizing on 
belief in conspiracy theories, it may have important implications as it 
prompts the prediction that conspiracy beliefs are most likely to flourish 
in the context of disadvantaged but highly cohesive groups. Moreover, it 
underscores the possibility that conspiracy believers are partly motivated 
by genuinely social concerns such as the well-being of fellow citizens. 


250 


Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange 


And going one step further, one might speculate that conspiracy beliefs 
are likely to be reinforced in a cohesive in-group that feels deprived or 
disadvantaged. In other words, the sense-making process is unlikely to 
be merely an individual process. Cohesive groups communicate in small 
networks and openly exchange their beliefs, and such social processes 
are likely to reinforce rather than undermine conspiracy beliefs. If any¬ 
thing, such processes strengthen the confidence with which conspiracy 
beliefs are held, and perhaps lead to individual or collective action that 
might be experienced as inexplicable and potentially threatening to those 
who are not part of this network and who do not hold such conspiracy 
beliefs. 

In summary, whereas recent developments in the field of research on 
belief in conspiracy theories mainly focused either on individual differ¬ 
ences (Abalakina-Paap etal., 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami etal., 2011) or 
on the sense-making motivations underlying conspiracy beliefs (Sullivan 
et al., 2010; van Prooijen and Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky, 
2008), our aim was to highlight the dynamic social structures that are 
fundamental to conspiracy beliefs. The main conclusion that we derive 
from the literature reviewed here is that conspiracy beliefs can be fruit¬ 
fully conceptualized as a consequence of perceived intergroup threat. The 
implications of the insights presented here may be useful in fundamental 
research on group-based paranoia and distrust, as well as in applications 
where policymakers seek to reduce, or anticipate, the paranoid responses 
of citizens to, for instance, political or corporate decision-making. More 
generally, it is our hope that the suggestions of the present chapter may 
inspire research and application in the rapidly emerging field of research 
on paranoia, distrust, and belief in conspiracy theories. 


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14 Examining the monological nature 
of conspiracy theories 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


Conspiracy theories attribute socially significant events to secret plots 
and schemes by powerful, unaccountable forces (Coady, 2006; Dou¬ 
glas and Sutton, 2008, 2011; Goertzel, 1994; McCauley and Jacques, 
1979). These proposed conspiracies typically involve sinister motives 
and unjust actions that are withheld from public knowledge. For exam¬ 
ple, popular contemporary conspiracy theories contend that the 9/11 
attacks were planned and carried out by elements within the American 
government (Kay, 2011; Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 
2010), that Princess Diana was assassinated by members of the British 
Establishment (Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011), and that governments 
are hiding evidence of the existence of extraterrestrial aliens (Goertzel, 
1994). Of course, such proposed conspiracies are not always false - the 
Watergate scandal is a good example of a “true” conspiracy. However 
the majority of conspiracy theories lack evidential support and are resis¬ 
tant to falsification (Clarke, 2002). Also, conspiracy theories may have 
important social consequences, such as decreased engagement with pol¬ 
itics, society, the environment, and health behaviors (Bird and Bogart, 
2003; Bogart and Thorburn, 2006; Butler, Koopman, and Zimbardo, 
1995; Jolley and Douglas, in press). 

There is a growing body of research examining the psychological 
underpinnings of belief in conspiracy theories (e.g., Abalakina-Paap, 
Stephan, Craig et al., 1999; Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011; Jolley 
and Douglas, in press; Swami, Chamorro-Muzic, Furnham et al., 2010; 
Swami, Coles, Stieger et al., 2011; van Prooijen and Jostmann, 2013; 
Wood, Douglas, and Sutton, 2012). Some work categorizes believers 
as paranoid individuals whose judgment is affected as the result of an 
“uncommonly angry mind” (Hofstadter, 1971, pp. 2-3), or due to 
paranoia, delusional thinking, or other psychopathologies (e.g., Groh, 
1987; Plomin and Post, 1997). Other correlates of conspiracy beliefs 
include anomie, distrust of authority, powerlessness, political cynicism 
(Abakalina-Paap et al., 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2010), lack of 


254 



The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


255 


control (Whitson and Galinsky, 2008), and Machiavellianism (Douglas 
and Sutton, 2011). 

On the positive side, belief in conspiracy theories has been associated 
with openness to experience (Swami etal., 2010; Swami, Pietschnig, Tran 
et al., 2013) and support for democratic principles (Swami et al ., 2011). 
This last finding may seem surprising to those struck by the capacity 
of conspiracy theories to foment political cynicism. It is less puzzling 
if we consider that support for the right to dissent is a key component 
of democratic values, and features prominently in the measure used by 
Swami et al. (2011). For example, one of the nine items is, “Everyone 
should have the right to express their opinion even if it differs from 
the majority”; another is, “Everyone should have the right to take their 
convictions to the street if necessary” (Kaase, 1971). It makes sense for 
possessors of minority, dissenting opinions to affirm the democratic right 
to express them. Further, research in political science suggests that those 
who are especially distrustful of state institutions are also especially likely 
to affirm democratic values (Barnes, Kaase, Allerback et al ., 1979). Thus, 
conspiracy beliefs may coincide with a sense that idealized democratic 
principles are being thwarted. 

However, the most consistent finding on the psychology of conspiracy 
theories, often used as an explanation for their popularity and persistence, 
is that belief in one particular conspiracy theory is predicted by belief in 
other theories - even when they refer to completely unrelated events and 
protagonists (e.g., Douglas and Sutton, 2011; Goertzel, 1994; Swami 
et al., 2010, 201 1). This is an important finding for several reasons. First, 
it provides some support for the lay notion that there is such a thing as a 
“conspiracy theorist,” who, far from singling out a particular event, will 
tend to take a sideways view of many major events in society (for an inter¬ 
esting discussion of the pejorative use of this label, see Husting and Orr, 
2007). Second, it shows that it makes sense to examine the psychology of 
conspiracism - that is, the situational and personality variables that predis¬ 
pose people to believe in conspiracy theories. If conspiracy theories did 
not hang together in people’s minds, it would be very difficult to research 
this topic - indeed, we could scarcely say that the topic existed. Instead, 
we would be confined to examining what leads people to accept or reject 
a particular conspiracy theory. We would then need to start again when 
examining the determinants of belief in any other conspiracy theory. Fur¬ 
ther, we would not be able to ask, “why do conspiracy theories matter?” - 
that is, we could not examine their impact on individuals and societies. 
Instead we would be confined to the idiographic study of the presumably 
unique and rather local consequences of individual conspiracy theories. 


256 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


The key question that we address in this chapter is, why do conspiracy 
theories flock together in this way? In other words, what causes people 
who believe one conspiracy theory to be more likely to believe another? At first 
glance, this question may seem obvious or trivial: Of course, they flock 
together, since they are “of a feather,” sharing important semantic fea¬ 
tures. To believe in any conspiracy theory is to believe that authorities 
can be malevolent, that they can conceal their evil-doing, and that offi¬ 
cial explanations for major events may be lies. Accepting these premises 
makes it much easier to accept any other conspiracy theory. 

However, this semantic similarity is not enough to explain why beliefs 
in various conspiracy theories are correlated. Since people’s beliefs are 
not always logically coherent (Billig, 1996; Monroe and Read, 2008; 
Rydell, McConnell, Mackie et al, 2006), the shared premises of con¬ 
spiracy theories do not guarantee that people who believe in one will 
endorse others. Further, as we have already seen, conspiracy theories 
vary enormously in the events they explain and the agents they blame. 
They also vary in their political, cultural, and semantic meaning. Con¬ 
sider, for example, the left-leaning conspiracy theory that oil companies 
plot to discredit evidence that use of their product is warming the planet, 
and the right-leaning theory that governments and scientists deliberately 
exaggerate the risk of anthropogenic climate change (Weingart, Engels, 
and Pansegrau, 2000) . With such different and often mutually incompat¬ 
ible content, it is by no means obvious why these theories tend to come 
together in the minds of some people. 


The monological belief system 

The predominant explanation for the clustering of conspiracy beliefs is 
that they comprise part of a monological belief system. Goertzel (1994), the 
original champion of this view, wrote: 

[BJelief systems can be characterized as dialogical or monological. Dialogical 
belief systems engage in a dialogue with their context, while monological systems 
speak only to themselves, ignoring their context in all but the shallowest respects, 
(p. 739) 

So for Goertzel (1994), a key feature of monological belief systems is what 
we might call a closed epistemology. Beliefs are evaluated according to their 
coherence with other beliefs in the system, rather than external data. 

Goertzel (1994) also identified a related but distinct feature of mono- 
logical belief systems. This is what we might call a nomothetic (vs. idio- 
graphic) explanatory style. Instead of explaining a specific event in terms 
of a full description of the particular details of events leading up to it, 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


257 


Goertzel suggests that monological conspiracy thinkers resort to general¬ 
ized explanations that appeal to a (malign) pattern of events in the world: 

[T]he proof which is offered is not evidence about the specific incident or issue, 
but the general pattern; for example, the X conspiracy has been responsible for 
all of our other problems, so it is obvious that X must be responsible for this 
one as well. For example, Crenshaw (1992) observed that black women have 
been racially and sexually abused by the white male power structure throughout 
American history. She then simply assumed that Anita Hill’s allegations should 
be viewed as an example of this pattern, never stopping to examine the factual 
basis for the particular allegations at hand. 1 (p. 741) 

In sum, Goertzel (1994) identifies two key features of the monologi¬ 
cal conspiracist mind-set: a closed epistemology in which adherents are 
indifferent to evidence, preferring to rely on their previous beliefs, and a 
nomothetic explanatory style in which each event is explained in terms 
of general patterns in the world rather than the unique, proximal con¬ 
ditions that might have brought it about. These two forces combine to 
bring conspiracy theories together in an adherent’s mind. Once a con¬ 
spiracy theory is accepted, it provides internal epistemological support 
for other conspiracy beliefs. Further, believing in several conspiracy theo¬ 
ries creates a subjective world in which events are frequently orchestrated 
by sinister forces, and this pattern serves as a schematic framework for 
explaining new events. Note that this set of psychological processes is 
relatively cold or unmotivated. If it is motivated, the motive is to protect 
“the belief system” from disconfirmation: 

Conspiratorial beliefs are useful in monological belief systems since they provide 
an easy, automatic explanation for any new phenomenon which might threaten 
the belief system. In a monological belief system, each of the beliefs serves as 
evidence for each of the other beliefs. The more conspiracies a monological 
thinker believes in, the more likely he or she is to believe in any new conspiracy 
theory which may be proposed. Thus African-Americans, who are more likely 
to be aware of the Tuskegee syphilis conspiracy, are predisposed to believe that 
AIDS may also be a conspiracy, while this idea may seem absurd to people who 
are unfamiliar with past medical abuses. (Goertzel, 1994, p. 740) 


Problems for the monological position 

As elegant as it is, there are several major problems with the monological 
belief system’s position on conspiracy theorizing, which we shall now 


i Goertzel refers to allegations of sexual harassment, made in televised hearings in 1991, 
by Anita Hill against Clarence Thomas, who was nominated for appointment to the US 
Supreme Court. The case sharply divided public opinion. 


258 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


outline. We suggest that the monological view glosses over the fact that 
conspiracy theories are not necessarily mutually supportive, that it lacks 
evidence, that it is not parsimonious, and that alternatives are more 
plausible. 


Conspiracy theories are not mutually supportive 

Some conspiracy theories do not support one another and may indeed 
provide mutually contradictory explanations for the same event. For 
example, conspiracy theories surrounding the death of Princess Diana 
vary widely - some propose that she was assassinated by secret agents 
on behalf of the royal family, others argue that she was assassinated by 
Mohamed Al-Fayed’s business partners, and others allege that she faked 
her own death and is still living somewhere in isolation, away from the 
prying eyes of the paparazzi. If indeed Princess Diana was assassinated, 
the royal family and Al-Fayed’s business partners could not both have 
been independently responsible for her death. Also, she cannot be both 
dead and alive at the same time. So, these conspiracy theories cannot be 
mutually supportive. In a closed epistemology, in which people’s beliefs 
in conspiracy A are a primary resource for assessing the truth of mutually 
incompatible conspiracy B, believers in A ought to be especially likely to 
reject B. 

Some of our research shows clearly that this does not happen (Wood 
et al ., 2012). We first examined relationships between a range of conspir¬ 
acy theories surrounding the death of Princess Diana (Study 1). Here, we 
established that participants’ agreement with “dead” conspiracy theories 
(e.g., there was an official campaign to kill Diana) were positively corre¬ 
lated with their endorsement of the “alive” conspiracy theory (i.e., Diana 
faked her own death). In a second study, we examined similar conspiracy 
theories surrounding the death of Osama bin Laden and again found 
that participants who endorsed the theory that bin Laden was already 
dead at the time of the raid in Pakistan also tended to endorse the theory 
that he is still alive somewhere. Crucially, we also included an additional 
question to test the hypothesis that an overarching belief concerning a 
cover-up may explain why people hold mutually contradictory conspiracy 
beliefs. We asked participants to rate their agreement with the statement 
that the Obama government is “hiding some important or damaging 
piece of information.” The results revealed that the correlation between 
“dead” and “alive” conspiracy theories was no longer significant when 
participants’ level of agreement that there was a cover-up was taken into 
account. 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


259 


Conspiracy theories therefore appear to be defined not by their adher¬ 
ence to a particular account, but by the belief that some kind of deception 
is taking place. Along a similar vein to an argument advanced by Adorno, 
Frenkel-Brunswik, Levinson era/. (1950) concerning incompatible anti- 
Semitic attitudes, incompatible conspiracy beliefs may be held concur¬ 
rently because they are explained by their coherence with “nuclear ideas” 
that pull ideas together to form an ideological system. To be fair, it might 
be that these findings merely require us to refine, rather than discard, 
the monological view of conspiracy theories. Perhaps some conspiracy 
theories are mutually contradictory, but they are mutually supportive 
in that they each feed, and are fed by, a central distrust of authority. 
Nonetheless, it is clearly misleading to contrast conspiracy theories only 
with official, nonconspiracist accounts of events. It is also necessary to 
contrast them with each other. As soon as we do this, we see that they do 
not live in the straightforwardly internally consistent symbiosis implied 
by the monological account. 


Lack of evidence 

A more serious problem is that there is no empirical evidence for key 
tenets of the monological position. It is clear that conspiracy beliefs are 
positively correlated (e.g., Goertzel, 1994; Swami etal., 2011, 2013), but 
it is not clear why. For example, the monological view holds that conspir¬ 
acy theorists are especially prone to a nomothetic explanatory style, but 
there is no evidence that these people explain events in more abstract, 
general, less case-specific terms. Indeed, even a cursory examination of 
websites devoted to conspiracies, such as that of the 9/11 Truth Move¬ 
ment, appears to reveal a deep rhetorical attachment to case-specific 
facts, true or not, regarding the melting point of steel, the burning tem¬ 
perature of aviation fuel, the way the buildings collapsed, and the collapse 
of neighboring buildings, inter alia (see also Griffin, 2009). 

Further, there is little evidence that conspiracy theorists have a gener¬ 
ally closed epistemology. Indeed, some findings suggest that such indi¬ 
viduals may tend to be somewhat more open to experience (Swami et al., 
2010, 2013). To be sure, there is something inherent in a conspiracy 
belief that may make disconfirmation difficult, since these beliefs cast 
doubt on usually trusted sources of information (Wood et al ., 2012). 
Thus, efforts by authorities to dispel conspiracy theories are likely to fail 
and even to backfire - new official explanations or evidence may be disbe¬ 
lieved and, even worse, seen as further evidence of a cover-up (Sunstein 
and Vermeule, 2009). This property of conspiracy theories may make 


260 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


them effective memes - that is, cognitive representations that tend to 
withstand disconfirmation and become culturally entrenched (Dawkins, 
1976; Mesoudi, 2009). However, even if research eventually shows con¬ 
spiracy theories to be resistant to evidence, this would not mean that the 
people who believe in them have a more general, closed-minded mind-set 
more generally. In other words, we cannot necessarily extrapolate from 
properties of the “sin” (a conspiracy theory) to broader dispositions of 
the “sinner” (a conspiracy theorist). 


Lack of parsimony and viability of simpler alternatives 

A related problem for the position is that it is not parsimonious: The 
correlations among various conspiracy beliefs can be explained in other, 
simpler ways, without invoking a closed epistemology or a nomothetic 
explanatory style. Recall, for example, the principle of “spurious correla¬ 
tion” from basic statistical training. If variable A predicts variables B and 
C, B and C will tend to be correlated, even if there is no causal relation 
between them. Thus, conspiracy beliefs would tend to be associated with 
each other, so long as they were affected by a common predictor. This 
would be true even if they had no causal relationship to each other, or, 
indeed, nothing else in common. And of course, conspiracy theories do 
have certain semantic features in common, so that their shared relation¬ 
ship with predictors is by no means coincidental. Specifically, because of 
their shared meaning, they tend to satisfy the same needs, appealing to 
people with similar personality profiles, and with similar cognitive styles 
and worldviews. 

Example 1: need for control An example of a shared predictor 
of conspiracy belief is the need for control. Theorists have suggested 
that conspiracy theories have a palliative function for people who feel 
they lack control over their social environment. They do so by offer¬ 
ing a neat explanation for lack of control; specifically, that events are 
wrested out of the people’s hands by the malign, covert activities of elites 
(Hofstadter, 1971). Further, they offer a sense of secondary control - 
even if people cannot control events, they can at least believe that they 
have secured privileged insights into the activities of powerful groups. 
Different lines of evidence support this view. For example, disadvan¬ 
taged groups who lack objective control of their lives tend to endorse 
conspiracy theories more strongly (Goertzel, 1994; Parsons, Simmons, 
Shinhoster et al., 1999). Whitson and Galinsky (2008) argued that lack¬ 
ing objective control causes people to restore a sense of control by finding 
patterns in the environment, such as conspiracies. They experimentally 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


261 


manipulated the sense of control by asking participants to recall a time 
they had, or lacked, control. Participants in the low-control condition 
were more likely to endorse conspiracy theories. They were also more 
likely to perceive patterns in random visual stimulus arrays. 

Example 2: personality variables The relationship between per¬ 
sonality variables and belief in conspiracy theories has also been well 
documented. Since conspiracy theories posit that authorities are untrust¬ 
worthy, they tend to be correlated with personality variables associated 
with mistrust and suspicion. These include anomie, low levels of trust, 
paranoia, and negative attitudes to authority (Abalakina-Paap etal., 1999; 
Grzesiak-Feldman and Ejsmont, 2008; Kofta and Sedek, 2005). A study 
by Swami et al. (2010) provides vivid evidence of the ability of per¬ 
sonality factors to bind conspiracy theories together statistically. Even 
when beliefs in other conspiracy theories were controlled for, belief in 
conspiracy theories about the July 7, 2005 terrorist attacks in London 
were associated with political cynicism, low agreeableness, and negative 
attitudes to authority. 

Example 3: beliefs about the self People generally want to explain 
socially significant events such as the deaths of celebrities and major inter¬ 
national disasters (e.g., Leman and Cinnirella, 2007; Weiner, 1985), but 
lack direct access to definitive proof of the truth or otherwise of a conspir¬ 
acy theory. Even the educated middle classes of functioning democracies 
need to rely on second, third, and nth hand reportage and interpreta¬ 
tion in media channels, since they lack direct access to the facts (Sutton, 
2010). Writing from a political science perspective, Sunstein and Ver- 
meule (2009) speculate that communities who lack even this informa¬ 
tion tend to be more susceptible to conspiracy theorizing. These com¬ 
munities include disadvantaged and marginalized groups, and citizens 
of highly authoritarian states. Such communities experience “a sharply 
limited number of (relevant) informational sources,” which leads them to 
experience “crippled epistemologies” in which they are forced to rely on 
unreliable sources (p. 204). As psychologists, we would suggest that lack 
of knowledge, however severe, forces members of the public to rely not 
only on indirect and unreliable sources but also on cognitive heuristics 
that allow workable, even if unreliable, inferences in the face of incom¬ 
plete information. One such heuristic is projection: using beliefs about 
the self as a basis to evaluate claims about other people. 

Specifically, we contend that the social-cognitive tool of projection 
can help people in these uncertain situations (Ames, 2004; Krueger, 
2000; McCloskey, 1958). When people are unsure about what someone 


262 Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 

may or may not have done, they can use their own thoughts, feelings, 
motivations, or action tendencies as a source of information. That is, 
they can judge others by judging what they themselves think they would 
do. For example, people may be more likely to adopt the hypothesis 
that Princess Diana was assassinated if they believe that they, personally, 
would be willing to take part in this act if they were in the same situation. 
So, a person’s perception that “I would do it” informs their perception 
that “others did it.” Beliefs in conspiracy theories - even about completely 
unrelated events - may therefore be held together by people’s judgments 
of their own moral tendencies. 

We tested the role of projection in two studies (Douglas and Sutton, 
2011). In the first study, we asked participants to complete the scale for 
Machiavellianism - an individual differences variable associated with per¬ 
sonal morality (Christie and Geis, 1970). Measuring Machiavellianism 
allowed us to test the prediction that the relationship between personal 
moral qualities and beliefs in conspiracy theories would be mediated by 
projection of those moral qualities onto others. We asked participants to 
rate their agreement with a range of conspiracy theories and measured 
their tendency to project by asking them, for each individual conspiracy 
theory, how willing they would have been to participate in the conspiracy 
themselves (e.g., “If you had been in the position of the US government, 
would you have ordered the attack on the Twin Towers on 9/11?”). As 
hypothesized, Machiavellianism predicted participants’ agreement with 
conspiracy theories. Also, participants’ personal willingness to conspire 
predicted the extent to which they endorsed the conspiracy theories. This 
mediated the relationship between Machiavellianism and endorsement of 
conspiracy theories. 

In a second study, we experimentally manipulated participants’ feelings 
of personal morality. We reasoned that by recalling a time when they 
behaved in a moral and decent manner, people would perceive themselves 
as less likely to participate in conspiracies. As predicted, participants 
asked to remember a time when they helped someone in need were 
subsequently less willing to conspire than control participants. They also 
endorsed a range of conspiracy theories less strongly. This decline in 
conspiracy belief was mediated by a decrease in willingness to conspire. 
These two studies, taken together, suggest that conspiracy theories may 
be held together by projection. Beliefs may not support each other, but 
instead may be held together by believers’ perception of their own moral 
tendencies (Douglas and Sutton, 2011). 

Example 4: beliefs about the world As well as beliefs about the self, 
beliefs about the world are important in conspiracy theories. According 
to just-world theory, children develop a need to believe that the world is 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


263 


a just place, in which people get what they deserve. This need remains 
throughout adulthood, since believing in justice allows people to plan 
and work towards the future with confidence that their efforts and moral 
conduct will be rewarded (Lerner, 1980). There is abundant evidential 
support for this theory. Just-world beliefs shape people’s mental health, 
behaviors, and many of their social and political attitudes (Furnham, 
2003; Flafer and Begue, 2005; Sutton, Douglas, Wilkin et al., 2008). 

Importantly, a just world can be contrasted with two alternatives. One 
is a world in which events are random, or at least not shaped by principles 
of justice. In such a world, bad things happen to good people as often 
as they happen to bad people. Events tend to be neither just nor unjust. 
Another is the unjust world, in which events are not random or meaning¬ 
less but instead systematically oppose justice principles: Bad people enjoy 
good outcomes while good people suffer. Although the vast majority of 
people would prefer to live in a just world, it may be relatively difficult to 
choose between the other two worlds. An actively, perversely unjust word 
may even be easier to deal with than a random world, since nonrandom 
events are more meaningful and easier to predict and understand than 
random ones (Janoff-Bulman and Yopyk, 2004; Kay, Moscovitch, and 
Laurin, 2010). 

Conspiracy theories clearly threaten the notion that the world is just, 
but, more specifically, they appear to resonate with the unjust, rather 
than the random world. They do this by positing that tragedies and dis¬ 
asters are not random, unforeseeable outcomes, but, rather, serve the 
interests of the unaccountable elites who orchestrate them. In a prelimi¬ 
nary investigation of this idea (Sutton and Douglas, in preparation), we 
conducted a study in which participants were asked to complete a widely 
used scale of justice beliefs. This scale includes items that measure belief 
in an unjust world (e.g., “The political candidate who sticks up for his or 
her principles rarely gets elected”), and other items that tend to measure 
belief in a just world (e.g., “In almost any business or profession, people 
who do their job well rise to the top”). Participants were also asked to rate 
the extent to which they endorse a range of different conspiracy theories 
on the scale devised by Douglas and Sutton (2011). The results revealed 
a robust correlation between belief in conspiracy theories and the belief 
that the world is wwjust (vs. not unjust). In contrast, beliefs in conspiracy 
theories were unrelated to beliefs that the world is just (vs. not just). 

Although further work is required to discern the direction of causality, 
these findings suggest that conspiracy theories may be held together by 
the view that injustice reigns in the world - as opposed to the subtly dif¬ 
ferent belief that justice is lacking. To return to Sunstein and Vermeule’s 
(2009) analysis, the findings also suggest a different social-psychological 
mechanism by which conspiracy theories thrive among those living under 


264 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


totalitarian regimes or in disadvantaged circumstances. Such circum¬ 
stances expose people to chronic experience of injustice (Miller, 2001). 
Thus it may be necessary to address not only the limited information 
available to the disaffected but also the sociostructural bases of the dis¬ 
affection itself. 


Conspiracy theories: variable or variables? 

We have seen that a range of situational and personality variables com¬ 
monly predict conspiracy theories and so tend to bind them together. 
This is not surprising, since conspiracy theories imply that powerful 
elites are willing and able to conspire. This central belief in the existence 
of conspiracies may be the essential glue that holds beliefs in various con¬ 
spiracy theories together (cf. Abalakina-Paap et al ., 1999; Wood et al., 
2012). Even more simply, it may be that items assessing beliefs in conspir¬ 
acy theories tap different manifestations of this same, underlying belief. 
In other words, it may simply be that belief in conspiracy theories is a 
variable, which, like many others in social science, can be measured by 
self-report scales containing multiple items. In this view, all that the inter¬ 
correlations between conspiracy items show is that our measurements are 
reliable. These different conceptions of the relationship between conspir¬ 
acy theories are diagrammatized in Figure 14.1. 

As yet, the available data do not strongly favor one of these different 
conceptions of conspiracy theorizing over the other. They are not neces¬ 
sarily incompatible, either. Beliefs in conspiracy theories may well cohere 
partly because of their shared relationship with higher-order beliefs about 
authority, partly because of their common sensitivity to situational and 
personality factors, and partly because they are aspects of the same under¬ 
lying variable. 

This lack of clarity contributes to a certain disorder in the literature. 
For example, in some papers, researchers have assumed, de facto, that 
belief in conspiracy theories is a psychological variable proper, have 
measured it with scales assessing beliefs in various conspiracies, and have 
reported Cronbach’s alpha as evidence that their measurement of the 
construct is robust (e.g., Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011). Other papers 
start with the assumption that specific conspiracy beliefs are not only 
distinct but also semantically opposed to each other. They then attempt 
to examine why conspiracy items are related to each other, putting 
aside any question that they might be items assessing the same variable 
(Wood etal., 2012). In contrast, Abalakina-Paap et al. (1999) constructed 
a measure of “a general propensity to believe in conspiracy theories” 
(p. 640) that did not assess belief in any actual conspiracies. This 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


265 



Figure 14.1 Four different conceptions of the relationships between 
conspiracy theories, (a) Straightforward monological relationship in 
which belief in each conspiracy theory (CT) supports belief in every 
other one. (b) Conspiracy theories may or may not have a causal rela¬ 
tionship with each other, but are correlated because of their common 
susceptibility to the same personality (Pers) and situational (Sit) factors, 
(c) Conspiracy theories may or may not have a causal relationship with 
each other, and, indeed, may even be mutually antagonistic, but they 
are intercorrelated because they fuel, and are fueled by, a meta-belief in 
the deceitful nature of authorities, (d) Belief in each conspiracy theory 
is merely an exemplar of the same variable, conspiracy beliefs. 











266 Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 

consisted instead of items such as, “People who see conspiracies behind 
everything are simply imagining things” (reverse-scored). Thus, they 
appear not to have been content to regard belief in a variety of conspiracy 
theories - also measured, in a separate scale - as evidence of a propensity 
to believe in them. 

Assumptions about the nature of conspiracy theories vary widely not 
only between papers but also sometimes within the same paper. This 
is especially true of papers that have explicitly set out to test whether 
conspiracy theories comprise part of a monological belief system. In the 
important and stimulating papers by Swami and colleagues (Swami et al., 
2010, 2011, 2013), conspiracy theories are simultaneously treated in 
two different ways. First, items measuring belief in several conspiracy 
theories are aggregated to form a reliable scale of conspiracy beliefs - 
so treating the resultant scale as a variable. But, second, this variable is 
then related to belief in a new conspiracy theory (e.g., about the July 7, 
2005 attacks in London), which is measured separately and treated as if 
it were an altogether separate variable conceptually. Thus, conspiracy- 
theory beliefs are being treated both as facets of the same unit, and as 
different units, within the same investigation. These papers implicitly ask 
readers to forget that they already know conspiracy theories A, B, and 
C are related, and then to be impressed by the fact that conspiracy D is 
related to them. 

Note that we could do the same thing, in principle, with just about 
any attitude scale (e.g., attitudes to safe sex, abortion, or the environ¬ 
ment) . A correlation between an item taken out of this scale (or a new, 
analogous item) and the remainder of the scale would normally reflect 
nothing more than the fact that the items measure essentially the same 
attitude. Without independent evidence, there is no reason to assume 
that interitem correlations are driven by the motivated maintenance of a 
worldview, or willful ignorance of facts, or any other characteristic of a 
monological mind-set. 

To be clear, many other interesting findings and ideas about psycholog¬ 
ical processes and individual differences emerge from all of these papers, 
which do not stand or fall on this single point. Also, it is interesting 
and important that beliefs in familiar conspiracy theories (e.g., about 
the deaths of John F. Kennedy and Princess Diana) are reliable predic¬ 
tors of willingness to accept conspiracy theories that the participant may 
not have encountered before, such as conspiracies about the allegedly 
malign forces behind the energy drink Red Bull (Swami et al., 2011) or 
the disappearance of Amelia Earhart (Swami et al., 2013). These find¬ 
ings show that, indeed, people who already believe in existing conspiracy 
theories will tend to be receptive to new conspiracy theories, exactly as 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


267 


Goertzel (1994) suggested. This is an important finding, even if it does 
not show that conspiracy theorists have a monological mind-set. 

We are unconcerned that the literature does not yet provide a definitive 
answer about which of the diagrammatized conceptions of conspiracy 
theories is most accurate. We can learn a lot from research that treats 
beliefs in various conspiracy theories as aspects of a single variable, such 
as the antecedents and consequences of belief and exposure to conspir¬ 
acies generally. Likewise, we can learn a lot from research that examines 
how and why beliefs in individual conspiracy theories are interrelated. 
In other words, to examine different research questions, we can treat 
beliefs in various conspiracy theories as unique or as aggregates. This is 
reminiscent of the particle-wave duality in physics, in which much can 
be learned about electrons only if scientists treat them as if they were 
particles, and much else can be learned only if they are treated as waves. 
So long as each piece of research is informed by a consistent and more 
or less explicit conceptualization of conspiracy beliefs, there is no reason 
why the plurality of conceptualizations should hinder progress. 


Closing comments 

In this chapter, we have reviewed the claim that conspiracy theories form 
part of a monological mind-set. The evidence most commonly cited for 
this claim is that beliefs in diverse conspiracy theories are positively corre¬ 
lated (e.g., Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2010, 2011, 2013; Wood et al., 
2012). More recently, researchers have pointed to the fact that the 
strongest predictor of whether participants will accept a novel or unfamil¬ 
iar conspiracy theory is the extent to which they already believe in other 
conspiracies (e.g., Swami et al., 2011, 2013). However, we have argued 
that this evidence is not sufficient. There are other plausible mecha¬ 
nisms that hold conspiracy beliefs together, several of which have been 
empirically validated. For example, regardless of variations in content, 
these beliefs tend to appeal to individuals who believe the world to be 
an unjust place, and who have a strong need for control (Whitson and 
Galinsky, 2008), with more or less paranoid personality profiles (Swami 
et al., 2010), or who think that they would personally engage in the 
alleged conspiracies (Douglas and Sutton, 2011). Further, an alternative 
and more parsimonious understanding of the positive relation between 
specific conspiracy beliefs is that they are all fed by a central distrust of 
authority, and may even be aspects of an underlying individual difference 
variable, such as “conspiracism.” 

Against these alternative views, there is no evidence for the unique 
mechanisms associated with the monological mind-set. For example, 


268 


Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas 


there is no evidence that conspiracy theorists are closed to experience, 
and no evidence that their thinking is nomothetic (abstract, general, 
and divorced from specifics). Another reason to be dissatisfied with the 
monological account of conspiracy theories, at least as it was originally 
stated, is that conspiracy theories are not necessarily mutually supportive. 
Indeed some are actually mutually incompatible (Wood et al., 2012). 

In sum, we think it is premature, and unfairly pejorative, to portray 
conspiracy beliefs as a manifestation of monological thinking. Closed¬ 
mindedness and willful ignorance of facts are stigmatized characteristics. 
It is sobering to reflect that scales measuring agreement with conspir¬ 
acy theories also, by definition, measure disagreement with them. So we 
might equally say that correlations between conspiracy items show that 
rejection of conspiracy theories comprises part of a monological world¬ 
view, in which alternatives to official accounts are dismissed in a closed- 
minded and irrational fashion! We need stronger empirical and theo¬ 
retical grounds that conspiracy theorists, rather than those who reject 
conspiracy theories, are more prone to monological thinking. 

The pejorative implications of the monological perspective are unfor¬ 
tunate, in our view. Although there is evidence that conspiracy beliefs 
are sometimes underpinned by paranoia and irrationality, and that they 
have some harmful consequences, there is space for a more complimen¬ 
tary picture of conspiracy theories. They can be seen as creative, almost 
heroic efforts by ordinary people to question and to create alternatives to 
political orthodoxy (Sapountzis and Condor, 2013). They can be seen as 
products, and affirmations, of the democratic right to entertain minor¬ 
ity views, no matter how absurd or unsettling they seem to the majority 
(cf. Swami et al., 2011). Conspiracy theories more generally may allow 
people to question social hierarchies, causing governments to be more 
transparent and democratic (e.g., Clarke, 2002; Swami and Coles, 2010). 
We would advocate a dispassionate mode of scientific inquiry which is 
open to the possibility that these theories have conventionally desirable 
and undesirable consequences, and which is not unduly influenced by 
the cultural impulse to label them as simply “good” or “bad” (cf. Husting 
and Orr, 2007). 

Despite our critique of the monological mind-set, we do think it makes 
some interesting predictions that deserve to be tested. One of the pre¬ 
dictions of the monological position is that adherents (vs. skeptics) of 
conspiracy theories will invoke fewer concrete facts and more general 
patterns when explaining major events. This nomothetic explanatory 
style should also be apparent in more abstract, as opposed to concrete, 
language (Douglas and Sutton, 2003; Semin and Fiedler, 1988). Another 


The monological nature of conspiracy theories 


269 


prediction of the monological view is that conspiracy adherents (vs. skep¬ 
tics) will be relatively unmoved by the presentation of specific facts about 
the immediate causal background of an event. Research might there¬ 
fore pretest adherence to conspiracy theories, and examine whether this 
moderates the extent to which participants are influenced by evidence 
that specific conspiracy theories are true or false (cf. Swami et al., 2013). 
These are just two examples of the interesting lines of research that 
remain to be done on conspiracy beliefs. 


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15 The role of paranoia in a dual-process 
motivational model of conspiracy belief 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


“Even paranoids have enemies.” So (reportedly) said the fourth Israeli 
prime minister, Golda Meir, to Henry Kissinger during the 1973 Sinai 
talks. The point is, of course, that while paranoia is typically considered 
to describe a pathological disjunction between persecutory belief and 
reality, this is not necessarily so. There are numerous historical and con¬ 
temporary examples of situations in which one group of people really are 
out to get others (for example, the McCarthyist persecution of supposed 
communist sympathizers in the 1950s, and numerous pogroms). 

Indeed, this is a point repeatedly made about conspiracy by laypeople, 
often in defense of their belief in conspiracy, and scholars, often in defense 
of their thesis concerning conspiracy belief (see Coady, 2006). Under 
some circumstances, there really has been a conspiracy going on behind 
the conspiracy theory. 

Our aim in this chapter is not to discuss whether or not paranoia or 
conspiracy belief is legitimate or rational (there are clearly cases where it 
may be), but rather to investigate why some people endorse conspiracy 
theories more than others. Specifically, we shall do this through con¬ 
sideration of several important individual difference variables that have 
been implicated as the foundation of a range of social and political atti¬ 
tudes and behaviors - social dominance orientation (SDO) (Sidanius and 
Pratto, 1999) and right-wing authoritarianism (RWA) (Altemeyer, 1981, 
1996) - that together comprise a particularly powerful explanatory pack¬ 
age (Altemeyer, 1998; Duckitt, 2001; McFarland and Adelson, 1996). 
At the same time, we shall attempt to illustrate the role that paranoia 
might play in the process. 


Psychology and conspiracy belief 

But first, let us consider conspiracy belief. If there is one thing that 
unites those few researchers interested in the psychological factors 


Wilson (2007) reported the data that are described as sample 1, and Wilson (under review) 
the data that are described as sample 5. 


273 



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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


associated with belief in conspiracies, it is their oft-expressed surprise 
that conspiracy thinking has not received more attention from psycho¬ 
logical researchers (Graumann, 1987). First, conspiracy belief shares 
much in common with other, more routine disciplinary foci. For exam¬ 
ple, and at a more psychologically fundamental level, conspiracy theories 
are attributional phenomena concerning the potential causes of partic¬ 
ularly significant events. Yet, there is very little published research eval¬ 
uating the attributional processes underlying conspiracy thinking (but 
see Leman and Cinirella, 2007; Zonis and Joseph, 1994). Leman and 
Cinirella (2007), for example, have shown that events with greater or 
more dramatic outcomes (assassination of a politician compared with 
attempted assassination) are more likely to result in conspiracy attri¬ 
butions. At the level of similarity of issue content, there is a much more 
extensive literature on the frequency and psychological correlates of belief 
in paranormal phenomena (see Irwin, 2009 for a comprehensive review). 
Darwin, Neave, and Holmes (2011) and Wilson (2007) have shown that 
conspiracy belief correlates with belief in paranormal phenomena and 
measures of schizotypal personality. 

Second, one can easily make an argument for the importance of study¬ 
ing these phenomena because of the significant impact they have on peo¬ 
ple’s lives, either because some conspiracy theories are actually veridical 
(e.g., US foreknowledge of the attack on Pearl Harbor) or because belief 
in conspiracy theory can influence important behavior. For example, the 
relatively low acceptance of safe sex practices among African-Americans 
has been associated with the fairly widespread belief among this pop¬ 
ulation that the HIV/AIDS virus was deliberately designed to target 
African-Americans (Bird and Bogart, 2003; Bogart and Thorburn, 2006; 
Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadnax et al., 1999). Finally, since the events of 
September 11, 2001, there has anecdotally been an increase in the pop¬ 
ularity of conspiracy theories, and not just concerning 9/11. Rather than 
autopsying reasons why we, as psychological researchers, have paid less 
attention to some issues than others, this chapter is intended to repre¬ 
sent a concerted attempt to understand conspiracy theorizing (CT), and 
extend the available literature on the topic. 

It is appropriate to note that there have been detailed considerations 
of CT in other academic domains - for example, the more sociologi¬ 
cal analyses of Barkun (2003) and Hofstadter (1966), under the broad 
headings of cultural and political studies. The research presented here 
is, however, psychological - it focuses very much on the inside-the-head 
aspects of CT that differentiate it from more sociostructural analyses. 
An important contribution to the understanding of CT psychology was 
presented by Goertzel (1994), who surveyed a North American sample 
about belief in specific topical conspiracies, as well as brief measures of 


Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


275 


several obvious relevant constructs (e.g., anomie, interpersonal trust). 
As well as illustrating relatively high levels of support for various theo¬ 
ries, an overall scale based on aggregating beliefs about a range of theories 
was reliable (indicating that belief in one theory tends to be associated 
with others), suggesting that CT might reflect a worldview (as Zusne 
and Jones, 1989, have suggested for paranormal beliefs). CT was also 
correlated with anomie and lack of interpersonal trust, so that the more 
socially isolated and less trusting the respondent, the stronger was the 
belief in conspiracies. Minority groups also tended to report stronger 
beliefs. These findings support the hypothesis that CT might be most 
likely among the disenfranchised and disempowered in society. This is 
consistent with the speculation of Inglehart (1987) that those at the 
political and social extremes would be expected to attribute their lack 
of success and status to conspiracies against them, as they are unlikely 
to find themselves in situations where their beliefs and values influence 
social and political events directly. 

More recently, Abalakina-Paap, Stephan, Craig et al. (1999) reported 
associations between conspiracy belief and anomie, distrust, powerless¬ 
ness, and hostility, as well as finding again that minorities are more likely 
to endorse conspiracy theories. Swami and colleagues have detailed asso¬ 
ciations between political cynicism, rebelliousness, agreeableness, and 
belief in 9/11 conspiracies (Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 
2009); between political cynicism, support for democracy, rebelliousness, 
lower self-esteem, agreeableness, and belief in 7/7 London bombing con¬ 
spiracy (Swami, Coles, Stieger et al., 2011); between lower self-esteem, 
higher agreeableness, political cynicism, ideological attitudes, and con¬ 
spiracy belief about the disappearance of Amelia Earhart and Fred Noo¬ 
nan (Swami and Furnham, 2012); and between schizotypal personality, 
belief in extraterrestrial aliens, and belief in Moon landings conspiracy 
(Swami, Pietschnig, Tran et al., 2013). If there is a theme across these 
papers assessing the individual difference correlates of conspiracy belief, 
it is that conspiracy theories are more positively endorsed by individuals 
reporting more political cynicism, distrust, anomie, paranormal belief, 
schizotypy, and minority status. 

Given that CT frequently, if not always, involves a strong political 
element (see Inglehart, 1987, for a discussion or conspiratorial think¬ 
ing particularly among minority/extremist political party supporters), it 
makes sense to consider conspiracy belief in the context of other sociopo¬ 
litical constructs. Indeed, the consistent finding that political alienation 
and cynicism are predictive of conspiracy belief similarly justifies such a 
focus. To that end, we propose that conspiracy belief should also be asso¬ 
ciated with those variables that have been found to be important in other 
sociopolitical attitudes and behaviors, and specifically RWA and SDO 


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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


Motivational goals underlying individual differences 
in prejudice and sociopolitical behavior 

RWA (Altemeyer, 1981, 1996) has a long track record, growing as it 
does from the seminal work of Adorno, Frenkel-Brunswik, Levenson et al. 
(1950) on the authoritarian personality. Adorno etal. described an exten¬ 
sive syndrome of characteristics that combine to produce a particularly 
unpleasant personality, which they used as a partial explanation for the 
atrocities of the Third Reich. In this process, they touched briefly on 
a “paranoid style” (a term later adopted by Hofstadter, 1966 in his 
oft-quoted essay on the conspiratorial aspects of American politics). Alte¬ 
meyer (1981, 1996) conceives of RWA as a covariation of three attitudi- 
nal clusters - authoritarian submission (people should do as legitimate 
authorities tell them), authoritarian aggression (people who do not do 
as they are told should be punished), and conventionalism (adherence 
to traditional social norms). RWA is also a potent predictor of prejudice 
and other sociopolitical attitudes. 

A relatively newer research tool, SDO is an individual-difference con¬ 
struct indexing the extent to which individuals endorse group-based hier¬ 
archies with some groups at the top and other groups arrayed below them 
(Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). SDO is an important tool for testing pre¬ 
dictions based on social-dominance theory (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999), 
which argues that postindustrial societies are organized as group-based 
hierarchies, supported by a range of psychological mechanisms that per¬ 
petuate a social and economic hierarchy. SDO is a consistent predictor 
of prejudice of various kinds (Altemeyer, 1998; McFarland and Adelson, 
1996; Sibley, Robertson, and Wilson, 2006), as well as various social and 
political attitudes. 

Additionally, as initially illustrated by McFarland and Adelson (1996), 
while RWA and SDO are typically correlated (McFarland and Adelson, 
1996; Roccato and Ricolfi, 2005), their combination explains as much 
as half of the variation in measures of prejudice through their unique 
and shared contributions - and in some cases their interaction (Wilson 
and Sibley, 2013). Duckitt (2001; Duckitt and Sibley, 2010) has pro¬ 
posed a dual-process motivational model of prejudice in which individual 
differences in prejudice result from two motivational goals, dominance 
and superiority versus egalitarianism (as reflected in SDO), and social 
cohesion and security versus autonomy and independence (RWA). In 
this model, social dominance and authoritarianism depend upon one’s 
beliefs about the extent to which the world is a competitive (in the case 
of SDO) or dangerous (in the case of RWA) place. Both SDO and RWA, 
then, are “triggered” by threats to hierarchy or security. Indeed, we know 


Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


277 


that priming people to perceive a dangerous world increases RWA scores 
(Duckitt and Fisher, 2003), and shifts in dominance hierarchies are asso¬ 
ciated with changes in SDO (Huang and Liu, 2005). These worldviews, 
in turn, reflect sociostructural characteristics and relatively stable indi¬ 
vidual differences in personality. In its power to account for variation in a 
range of sociopolitical attitudes, the dual-process model provides a pow¬ 
erful and coherent tool for understanding a variety of social and political 
attitudes. 


SDO, RWA, and conspiracy 

On the face of it, it seems reasonable to suspect that RWA and SDO 
should predict conspiracy belief, though perhaps differentially, depend¬ 
ing on the content of the particular conspiracy. For instance, high SDOs 
should be concerned about the threat to social hierarchies of improving 
the status of indigenous peoples and ethnic minorities. Similarly, high 
RWAs will see attempts to subvert tradition, such as promoting gay mar¬ 
riage, as threatening social cohesion and security. Given that threats to 
social hierarchy also potentially destabilize social cohesion and security, 
many conspiracies would be expected to trigger both SDO and RWA 
through increasing competition and danger. 

Psychological research into conspiracy belief is sufficiently new that 
there has been little empirical work looking at the role of sociopoliti¬ 
cal individual differences such as RWA and SDO. Abalakina-Paap et al. 
(1999) reported that belief in specific conspiracies is correlated with 
RWA, but not with belief in general conspiracy (that conspiracies do 
happen). Swami (2012) investigated endorsement of Jewish conspir¬ 
acy themes among Malays, and found belief in such conspiracies to be 
strongly correlated with modern racism. Unsurprisingly, given the theo¬ 
retical and empirical links between prejudice, SDO, and RWA, endorse¬ 
ment of Jewish conspiracy is also correlated with SDO and RWA. Swami 
and colleagues (Swami et al ., 2009, 2011) have reported the Big Five 
characteristic of agreeableness to be negatively correlated with conspir¬ 
acy belief, as is SDO (see Sibley and Duckitt, 2008). 


Psychopathology, paranoia, and conspiracy belief 

Given the political focus of many conspiracy theories, greater focus on the 
roles of RWA and SDO is understandable when one considers that vari¬ 
ables such as political cynicism and trust have been consistently linked 
to conspiracy belief. What is perhaps more surprising is the very real 
dearth of research that has investigated the psychopathological correlates 


278 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


of conspiracy belief. While schizotypy (and particularly the extent to 
which people display “magical thinking” or make unusual connections 
between unrelated events) has been linked to conspiracy belief (Darwin 
et al., 2011; Wilson, 2007), few researchers appear to have empirically 
investigated paranoia - arguably the core attribute associated with the 
stereotype of the conspiracy theorist. Such a link has been theorized (e.g., 
Wulff, 1987), and Darwin et al. (2011) report that scores on the Conspir¬ 
acy Theory Questionnaire (Bruder and Manstead, 2009, cited by Darwin 
et al ., 2011) correlated .47 with scores on the Paranoid Ideation Scale 
(Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992), while Wilson (2007) reported weak (but 
consistent) significant correlations around .20 between conspiracy belief 
and scores on the Paranoia Checklist (Freeman, Garety, Bebbington 
et al., 2005). 

A staple of popular representations of conspiracy, paranoia refers to 
persecutory delusions - the belief that people (be they friends, family, or 
strangers) are watchings, or intend to harm, the protagonist (Freeman 
et al., 2005). At its most basic, being paranoid means having thoughts 
about malicious others. Freeman et al. (2005) operationalize paranoia as a 
multidimensional construct comprising frequency of paranoid ideation, 
the degree of distress associated with the ideation, and the extent to 
which the subject believes that the “delusion” is true. In a review of the 
literature considering persecutory delusions, Freeman (2007) suggests 
that some degree of paranoia is as common as anxiety among the general 
population, and that anxiety, depression, and poor self-esteem are among 
the affective correlates of persecutory delusions. 


Accounting for paranoia in a dual-process motivational 
model of conspiracy belief 

While there is now a significant amount of research that has built upon 
Duckitt’s (2001) original dual-process model, and it has been applied to 
understanding a range of prejudices and social attitudes, it is less clear 
how psychopathological constructs like paranoia fit in, or whether we 
should even ask the question. 

There has been only a limited focus on the psychopathological corre¬ 
lates of SDO and RWA, and many of the studies that report associations 
do so incidentally, and tend to be limited to mood-related variables. For 
example, while van Hiel and de Clercq (2009) suggested that RWA might 
protect against the risk of depression, Duriez, Klimstra, Luyckx et al. 
(2012) have reported that while RWA was unrelated to depression at time 
1 in a longitudinal sample, time 1 RWA weakly predicted time 2 depres¬ 
sion, leading them to conclude that RWA is a risk factor for depression. 


Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


279 


Recently (and comprehensively), Onraet, van Hiel, Dhont et al. (2013) 
report analysis of various studies that have included SDO, RWA, and 
a range of psychopathological correlates. SDO showed weak significant 
relationships with trait anxiety, while RWA was associated weakly with 
death anxiety. Both were associated moderately with intergroup anxiety. 

Most relevant to this discussion, Walter, Thorpe, and Kingery (2001) 
found that the higher their participants scored on RWA (but not SDO), 
the more prone they were to demonstrating “irrational” beliefs - that 
the past is important for determining the present, the importance of 
others’ approval, and the need to be perfect, though it might be argued 
that these are qualitatively different from the kinds of persecutory beliefs 
more typically associated with pathological delusions. At the same time, 
high SDOs were more likely to report feelings of suspicion and concern, 
while high RWAs reported more general feelings of anxiety. 

In the absence of strong guidance, there are several ways that para¬ 
noia might “fit” into a dual-process model. Paranoia may mediate 
between dangerous/competitive worldviews and RWA/SDO, and between 
RWA/SDO and conspiracy belief, or paranoia may predict RWA/SDO 
and/or dangerous/competitive worldviews. Onraet et al. (2013) found 
both RWA and SDO to be associated with intergroup anxiety, and it 
might therefore be reasonable to suggest that paranoia contributes to 
both SDO and RWA, via concern over the malicious intent of others. 
Given that Walter et al. (2001) report SDO to be correlated with feelings 
of suspicion, it may be that paranoia is related particularly to SDO rather 
than RWA. 


Data 

The conspiracy-belief measure used in these studies is based on principal- 
components analysis of examples of conspiracy theories derived from a 
range of sources (including the internet and popular books about con¬ 
spiracy theory). The full process has been described elsewhere (Wilson, 
2007), and analyses indicated four broad “themes” of conspiracy: 

(1) organizational conspiracies targeting particular groups (e.g., “HIV 
was developed in a laboratory specifically to target minorities,” 
“World governments are run by the Illuminati,” “A secret cabal of 
elite individuals controls world politics” - 11 items, a (Cronbach’s 
alpha) = .89); 

(2) US government conspiracies (e.g., “The US government knew about 
or planned the attacks on the Twin Towers on 9/11,” “The Iraq War 
of 2003 was about oil, and not democracy,” “George W. Bush rigged 
the 2000 and 2004 American elections,” - 5 items, a — .87); 


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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


(3) extraterrestrial alien conspiracies (e.g., “World governments have 
suppressed evidence of alien visits,” “The US military is hiding alien 
technology in Area 51,” “World governments are complicit in the 
abduction by aliens of thousands, if not millions, of people” - 5 items, 
a = .79); 

(4) New Zealand-related conspiracies (e.g., “The All Blacks rugby team 
was deliberately poisoned prior to the 1995 World Cup Final,” “The 
Rainbow Warrior was bombed by agents of a foreign power,” “New 
Zealand society is constantly manipulated by big business” - 4 items, 
a = .50). 

Combining items from the first three components produces a highly 
reliable scale assessing the extent to which people believe these specific 
conspiracies are likely to be accurate descriptions of the events they per¬ 
tain to. 


Paranoia and conspiracy belief: analysis and discussion 

Here we summarize the results of four survey-based studies investigating 
the relationship between self-reported paranoia and conspiracy belief. In 
our studies, paranoia has been assessed in one of two ways. The first uses 
the British Inventory of Mental Pathology (BIMP) (Bedford and Deary, 
2006), a 36-item scale assessing a broad range of psychopathological 
symptoms. There are six 6-item subscales, including one assessing para¬ 
noid belief (for example, one item is as follows: “Recently, I have felt 
that an organization or group has been planning my downfall”). The 
second is the Paranoia Checklist developed by Freeman et al. (2005) and 
adapted from Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale. The mea¬ 
sure invites participants to indicate how frequent, how distressing, and 
how veridical (how true) they think a range of scenarios are (for example, 
“I am under threat from others”). 

Table 15.1 provides correlations between conspiracy-belief scores and 
measures of paranoia, based on analysis of four student subject pool 
samples (sample 1, n = 222, collected in October 2006 and reported by 
Wilson (2007), sample 2, n — 81, collected in October 2006, sample 3, 
n — 228, collected in July 2008, and sample 4, n = 180, collected in 
September 2009). The participants were invited to take part in surveys 
of “social and political attitudes” and received credit towards a manda¬ 
tory course research requirement. All samples completed Freeman et al .’s 
(2005) Paranoia Checklist. Sample 1 completed only the frequency sub¬ 
scale, and sample 2 also completed the BIMP, which includes a subscale 
assessing paranoid belief. Sample 4 did not complete the full conspiracy 
scale, but rather an 8-item short version. 


Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


281 


Table 15.1 Correlations between paranoia and 
conspiracy belief across four student samples 




Sample 



i 

2 

3 

4 

n 

219 

81 

222 

177 

Paranoia Checklist 

Frequency 

.27** 

.27* 

.29** 

.30** 

Distress 


.32** 

.27** 

.28** 

Truth 


.21+ 

.30** 

.19* 

BIMP Paranoid Belief 


.25* 



Conspiracy scale reliability 

.91 

.91 

.90 

.78 


t p < .10. 

* p < .05. 

** p < .01. 

In short, all but one of the paranoia measures correlated positively, 
though modestly, with conspiracy belief. These correlations are generally 
weaker than those reported by Darwin et al. (2011), and it is unclear why 
this was the case. The measure of conspiracy belief used by Darwin 
et al. (2011) is similar in delivery (inviting participants to indicate the 
likelihood that each of thirty-eight conspiracies is likely or unlikely) and 
Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale is the basis for Freeman 
et aids (2005) Paranoia Checklist (Freeman et al. argue that the Paranoia 
Scale is not sufficiently persecutory). 

Nevertheless, it is probably fair to conclude that while paranoid 
ideation clearly is consistently associated with conspiracy belief, that 
association does not appear strong enough to justify arguing that con¬ 
spiracy belief is the same thing as paranoia. 


Bringing together paranoia, conspiracy, and the 
dual-process model: analysis and discussion 

So, how does paranoia fit into a dual-process model of conspiracy belief? 
Next we describe a study, once again using 180 university subject-pool 
participants (sample 5) invited to participate in a “survey of social and 
political attitudes.” The participants completed the full conspiracy-belief 
scale; the BIMP; the 16-item SDO-6 scale (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999 - 
sample item, “Inferior groups should stay in their place”); the 30-item 
RWA scale (Altemeyer, 1996 - sample item, “What our country really 
needs, instead of more ‘civil rights,’ is a good stiff dose of law and 








282 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


Table 15.2 Correlations between BIMPpsychopathology subscale scores, 
conspiracy belief, RWA, SDO, and Worldview scale scores 


BIMP Euphoric Grandiose Intrusive Paranoid Psychological Somatic 

subscale mood belief thoughts belief distress distress SDO RWA 


Conspiracy 

.19* 

.40** 

.26** 

.34** 

.18* 

.26** 

.45** .38** 

belief 

SDO 

.09 

.37** 

.20* 

.44** 

.22** 

.25** 

- 

RWA 

-.01 

.30** 

.03 

.30** 

.01 

.04 

.45** - 

Dangerous 

.08 

.11 

.09 

.09 

.21* 

.17* 

.12 .34** 

World 

Competitive 

.13 

.27** 

.19* 

.37** 

.15 

.23** 

.59** .35** 


World 


order.”); and the Dangerous and Competitive Worldview scales (Duckitt, 
2001 - sample Dangerous World item, “Despite what one hears about 
‘crime in the streets,’ there probably isn’t any more now than there 
ever has been” - sample Competitive World item, “Winning is not the 
first thing: It’s the only thing”). The SDO, RWA, conspiracy-belief, and 
worldview scales were all answered on a 7-point scale, and mean scores 
were calculated for all scales (Table 15.2). All scales and subscales proved 
reliable. 

Scores on RWA (M = 3.08, SD = .91) and SDO (M = 2.79, SD = 
1.05) were characteristically low. On average, the samples tended to think 
the conspiracies presented to be unlikely (organizational conspiracy, 
M = 2.72, SD = 1.17; US government conspiracy, M = 3.78, SD — 
1.32; alien conspiracy, M = 2.68, SD = 1.29; overall conspiracy belief, 
M — 3.00, SD — 1.09). All conspiracy scale scores were significantly less 
than the theoretical scale midpoint of 4: r(156) < —2. 07, p < .04, though 
the difference for US government conspiracy belief was close to being 
nonsignificant (p = .04). 

Conspiracy belief showed significant correlations with all six BIMP 
subscales, with Grandiose Belief and Paranoid Belief demonstrating the 
strongest associations. Intriguingly, these were also the only two BIMP 
subscales that correlated with both SDO and RWA - the more social 
dominant and authoritarian the participants, the more paranoid and 
grandiose ideation they endorsed. That SDO correlated (albeit weakly) 
with five of the six BIMP subscales is particularly interesting in light of 
Sidanius and Pratto’s (1999) theoretical endorsement of SDO as being 
a “normal” part of contemporary social life. By this, they clearly do not 
mean that SDO should be unrelated to psychological distress, but rather 
that SDO does not grow from a psychopathological foundation. These 







Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


283 


results suggest that a tendency to social dominance may carry other 
psychological baggage. Contrary to expectation, RWA was unrelated to 
the subscale Intrusive Thoughts - an index of worry and anxiety where 
we might have expected that our threat-sensitive authoritarians would 
endorse more worry than others. 

Conspiracy belief correlated significantly with both RWA and (more 
strongly) SDO. However, Wilson and Sibley (2013) have shown that 
SDO and RWA interact to predict political ideology. That is to say, the 
interaction between the two accounts for significant variation in ideology 
(variously measured) on top of the variation they account for individu¬ 
ally (Aiken and West, 1991). In order to assess whether SDO and RWA 
interact to predict conspiracy belief, an interaction term was computed 
by multiplying SDO with RWA scores for each participant. Conspir¬ 
acy belief subscale scores were then regressed onto SDO and RWA (as 
a block) followed by the SDO by RWA interaction term. A significant 
interaction (moderation) is observed if the interaction term explains sig¬ 
nificant additional variance. 

There was no evidence for moderation in predicting either US govern¬ 
ment conspiracies or alien conspiracies. The inclusion of the interaction 
term accounted for significant variance in organizational conspiracy belief 
(e.g., HIV manufactured to target minorities, etc.): Fstepi(2, 149) = 
33.28, p < .001, R 2 adj = .31; F ST EP2 (3, 148) = 23.93, p < .001, R 2 ADJ = 
.33; AF(1, 148) = 3.95, p < .05, AR 2 adj = .02). In order to clarify the 
nature of the moderation, ModGraph (Jose, 2004) was used to plot the 
interaction. Figure 15.1 shows the result, indicating that at low levels of 
RWA, as SDO increases so too does conspiracy belief, and at high levels 
of RWA, this is even more pronounced - people report the highest levels 
of endorsement of these organizational conspiracies if they are high on 
both RWA and SDO, and the lowest endorsement when they score low 
on both. It is likely that these “double-highs” (Altemeyer, 2004) are par¬ 
ticularly sensitive to threats to not only social hierarchy but also social 
convention and security, and this accounts for their weaker opposition to 
conspiracy belief associated with shady organizations trying to do wrong 
to people. We note “weaker opposition” because even though double- 
highs reported the highest scores, these high scores were still below the 
theoretical midpoint of the scale. 

Finally, in order to test a dual-process model of conspiracy belief, the 
data were subjected to structural equation modelling, using SPSS Amos. 
Worldviews, SDO, RWA, conspiracy belief, and Paranoid Belief were 
treated as observed variables. The basic dual-process model (Dangerous 
World predicting RWA, Competitive World predicting SDO, and SDO 
and RWA predicting conspiracy belief) fit the data satisfactorily. The path 


284 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 



Low RWA High RWA 


Figure 15.1 ModGraph plot of the SDO by RWA interaction predicting 
endorsement of organizational conspiracies. 


from SDO to RWA (but not vice versa) was significant, consistent with 
several previous analyses. 

Paranoid Belief was included in the model in a variety of positions. 
Analyses did not support a role for Paranoid Belief as a mediator between 
any other variables in the model. However, Paranoid Belief was success¬ 
fully included as a significant predictor of both Competitive World beliefs 
and SDO. Paranoid Belief was not a significant predictor of RWA or Dan¬ 
gerous World belief. Figure 15.2 shows the final path model. 

This analysis shows that the dual-process motivational model proposed 
by Duckitt (2001) to explain intergroup attitudes predicts almost a quar¬ 
ter of the variation in conspiracy belief. Both the Dangerous World/RWA 
and Competitive World/SDO pathways of the model predict unique 








Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


285 


.00 .27 



.13 .39 


Figure 15.2 Path analysis of a dual-process model, including paranoia, 
predicting conspiracy belief: x 2 (J ) = 13.36 ns, x 2 /df = 1.91, GFI = 
.96, RMSEA = .04, all paths significant at least at p < .05. 


variance in conspiracy belief, and RWA also appears to mediate between 
SDO and conspiracy belief - a preference for group-based hierarchy is 
associated with elevated authoritarianism that in turn predicts conspir¬ 
acy belief. While bearing in mind the limits of cross-sectional data, this 
analysis suggests that conspiracy belief may be (at least in part) the con¬ 
sequence of greater preference for hierarchy and/or authority that in turn 
stems from concerns that the world is a dangerous and/or competitive 
place. 

That Paranoid Belief fits into this picture through prediction of the 
Competitive World/SDO path of the model is consistent with the work 
of Walter et al. (2001), who found that suspicion was more consistent 
with SDO than RWA. But why is this the case? After all, we know that 
authoritarians are highly sensitive to threats to security and cohesion 
(Duckitt and Fisher, 2003, among others) so why is this not manifested 
in some degree of paranoia over such threats, when RWA does predict 
actual belief in these kinds of threats as they are embodied by conspir¬ 
acy? We would suggest that the answer to this may lie in the difference 
between paranoia and conspiracy belief. Paranoia refers to persecutory 
beliefs about threats to oneself as an individual, while conspiracies refer 
to the malicious intent of mysterious others to the detriment of groups of 
individuals. To paraphrase David Coady (2008), if I believe that people 
are deliberately trying to prevent me from publishing my research, that 
is paranoia, not conspiracy, because the malicious action targets only 
me. Research like that conducted by Duckitt and Fisher (2003) typi¬ 
cally involves group-based threat, even if only by implication, while the 











286 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


items of Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale and Freeman 
et al.’s (2005) Paranoia Checklist explicitly ask about malicious intent 
and action towards the respondent in particular. 

The next interesting question concerns why SDO, also a group- 
referential construct, is predicted by Paranoid Belief? One possibility 
is that high SDOs are concerned about threats to both individual and 
group hierarchy - that a threat to one’s own position is a threat to the 
position of one’s group. Several authors have noted that SDO, but not 
RWA, is associated strongly with psychopathy - which one can think 
of as individual dominance (e.g., Hodson, Hogg, and Maclnnis, 2009; 
Wilson, 2005; Wilson and Sibley, 2012). Maybe, as far as SDO goes, 
what threatens or benefits me specifically threatens or benefits my group 
status in a way that does not apply to RWA. 


Concluding remarks 

To summarize, the results presented here show that conspiracy belief is 
correlated with paranoid ideation (assessed by two different measures) 
but, though robust, the relationship is by no means large enough to 
suggest that paranoia is the defining correlate of conspiracy belief. At 
the same time, both RWA and SDO, themselves important constructs 
for understanding numerous social and political attitudes, appear to be 
modestly associated with paranoid ideation. 

Conspiracy belief was also correlated with Grandiose Belief. This sug¬ 
gests that the more one endorses conspiracy, the more self-important one 
appears to be. This is consistent with the suggestion by Billig (1987) that 
proponents of conspiracy theory typically present themselves as “special” 
in that they have not succumbed to the official story, and have an impor¬ 
tant role in exposing conspiracy. In fact, conspiracy belief was at least 
weakly correlated with all domains of symptomology assessed by the 
BIMP - either believing in conspiracies predisposes one to psychological 
ill-being, or, alternatively, psychopathology lays a foundation for con¬ 
spiracy belief. Disentangling these two possibilities will necessitate cun¬ 
ning research designs, perhaps assessing psychopathology and conspiracy 
belief over time in order to assess causality over time. We believe that, to 
date, this is the first examination of a broad range of psychopathological 
symptoms in relation to conspiracy theory. 

The finding that paranoia is associated with RWA and SDO is prob¬ 
ably unsurprising given the numerous historical examples of conserva¬ 
tive/rightist policy and practice focused on identifying threats to soci¬ 
etal order (for example, the “Reds under the bed” propaganda of the 
National Party prime minister Robert Muldoon in 1970s New Zealand, 


Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model 


287 


and justification of voter-identification laws by Republicans in the 2012 
US elections). That conspiracy belief appears to be associated with RWA 
and SDO (r = .45 and .38 respectively in sample 5) makes sense given 
that many conspiracies have strongly political content, and SDO and 
RWA are probably a big part of the foundation of political attitudes. 

At the same time, it is an open question as to whether or not conspir¬ 
acy belief might be the exclusive domain of conservative/rightist elites 
and voters - pogroms and persecution are very definitely not the sole 
preserve of the right. We suspect that the appropriate operationaliza¬ 
tion of conspiracy belief in research is vital for addressing this question. 
For instance, it would be unsurprising to find that in many Western 
nations, right-wing sympathizers endorse the belief that there are conspir¬ 
acies deliberately intended to privilege minorities (such as homosexuals, 
indigenous peoples, women, and immigrants) over “legitimate” citizens. 
At the same time, liberals/leftists might also believe in a powerful lobby 
focused on disadvantaging exactly those same groups. Failure to broadly 
define conspiracy might result in research findings allowing characteri¬ 
zation of conspiracy belief as something related only to the right (or the 
left, depending). Indeed, the stereotypical conspiracy theorist might even 
endorse both sets of claims. 

Following from this point, it is likely that the nature of the political 
context may be important for who exactly is seen as a conspiracy theorist. 
That is to say, those who run the country determine whose “official story” 
is told and, in turn, who is to be distrusted. Once again, only research 
over time in the same contexts will help us to understand the particular 
dynamics of conspiracy as political fortunes wax and wane. 

Just as support for the original dual-process model suggests that con¬ 
textual factors that lead to increased perceptions of danger or competi¬ 
tion will have flow-on effects resulting in increased out-group negativity 
(see Sibley, Wilson, and Duckitt, 2007), so too do these results suggest 
that, at times when the world appears more dangerous or competitive, 
we might expect increases in conspiracy belief. This is entirely consistent 
with the anecdotal increase in popularity of conspiracy theory after 9/11 — 
a supremely salient threat to security and social cohesion, and threat to 
the status of the West. Indeed, given that events like 9/11 are so salient, 
so major, it is unsurprising that they become the subject of conspiracy 
theory. 

What have we learnt? Unsurprisingly, there is a kernel of truth to the 
stereotype of the paranoid conspiracy theorist, though perhaps not as 
large a kernel as the stereotype suggests. Additionally, and importantly, 
conspiracy belief can be tied into a broader research tradition aimed at 
understanding people’s social and political attitudes. That conspiracy 


288 


Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose 


belief fits into Duckitt’s (2001) dual-process model is potentially useful 
for understanding how social and political threats lay the foundation for 
shifts in the popularity of conspiracy belief. 


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16 Searching for the root of all evil: an 
existential-sociological perspective on 
political enemyship and scapegoating 


Daniel Sullivan, Mark J. Landau, Zachary K. 
Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 


Political enemyship is common and diverse, ranging from the scapegoat¬ 
ing of minority parties by dominant ones to conspiracy theories about the 
alleged power of one individual to control wide swaths of society. Many 
social scientists have argued that enemy figures and out-groups play an 
essential role in the construction and defense of political identities. We 
propose that to understand why this is the case, we should first analyze the 
diverse psychological functions that enemies serve at the individual level. 

To this end, we begin this chapter by summarizing a theory that 
explains how perceived relations of enmity in both personal and political 
arenas allow individuals to maintain a sense of having personal control 
and a valued identity - beliefs that ultimately serve to buffer threatening 
thoughts about personal mortality. We then review evidence from the 
social-psychological literature supporting this existential theory. In the 
second half of the chapter, we turn from the question of the functions 
that enemyship serves to the question of when (i.e., under what socio- 
historical circumstances) enemyship is most likely to be employed for 
those functions. Drawing on insights from sociology, we propose several 
hypotheses concerning both quantitative and qualitative variation in ene¬ 
myship processes. We believe that our integrative existential-sociological 
framework has considerable potential to explain why political enemyship 
and scapegoating take place, and to predict when these phenomena can 
be expected with reasonable certainty. 

Enemyship and politics 

A number of psychologists (e.g.. Allport, 1954; Cantril, 1941) have 
argued that clear enemy groups are necessary to solidify political group 
identities (for review, see Holt and Silverstein, 1989). This work is 
based on variations of the social identity theory (Tajfel, 2010/1978) 


292 



Enemyship and scapegoating 


293 


hypothesis that group members strive for valued group distinctiveness, 
and perhaps the best way to do so is by differentiating the group 
from devalued out-groups. Thus, defining group characteristics over and 
against those of an enemy group is often a crucial process in the consoli¬ 
dation of political beliefs and identity. 

Indeed, in the most radical statement of this position, the political the¬ 
orist Carl Schmitt (2007/1932) argued that the very essence of politics 
as a unique domain of human activity inhered in the friend-enemy rela¬ 
tionship. For Schmitt, politics could only be distinguished from other 
important sociocultural domains - such as aesthetics and religion - by 
recognizing the defense of one’s position against that of an enemy as 
the starting point for all political thought and action. Schmitt went fur¬ 
ther to claim that politics (as grounded in the friend-enemy relationship) 
uniquely affords individuals the opportunity to satisfy existential motives. 
For Schmitt, existential motivation meant being willing to kill or be killed 
in service of an idea (see also Marcuse, 2009/1968). 

We do not straightforwardly endorse Schmitt’s narrow definitions of 
politics or existential motivation. But conceptual issues aside, the histor¬ 
ical record clearly supports his key notion - namely, that political friend- 
enemy relations have immense power to drive individuals to extreme 
acts, including murder and martyrdom. This reality raises the question of 
how exactly collective political constructions offer individuals an oppor¬ 
tunity to satisfy their personal existential motivations. Specifically, how 
do political processes, largely occurring outside the purview of a given 
individual, give rise to such deep-seated personal convictions? Moreover, 
under which circumstances will individuals be most likely to satisfy their 
existential motives through the friend-enemy relationship? 

We propose that underneath these questions lies the issue of why ene¬ 
myship is so important for the construction of identity and the mainte¬ 
nance of belief systems. Two characteristics of enemyship in particular 
call out for explanation: first, it is irrational- marked by fervor and super¬ 
stition and capable of fomenting extreme antisocial actions with little 
regard for sound judgment; second, it assumes various forms - its object, 
scope, and duration differing significantly between groups and sociohis- 
torical circumstances. To be sure, a sociological perspective emphasizing 
historically situated struggles for resources could explain much of the 
second aspect of enemyship, and indeed we will adopt a largely sociolog¬ 
ical approach later in this chapter. However, we believe that a framework 
emphasizing existential motives to establish a valued identity in the face of 
mortality is better suited than other perspectives to explain the more irra¬ 
tional aspect of enemyship. Therefore, to understand this fundamental 
issue, we first need to examine the human existential situation, and the 


294 Daniel Sullivan, Mark J. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

existential functions of personal enemyship. Therein, we propose, lie the 
psychological roots of political enemyship. 


An existential theory of (political) enemyship 

An existential theory of enemyship should be rooted in that which is 
both the ultimate existential concern and the ultimate threat posed by 
an enemy: death (Hoffman, 1983; Tillich, 1952). Within social psychol¬ 
ogy, the most widely researched theory of the role of death awareness 
in human behavior is terror management theory (TMT) (Pyszczyn- 
ski, Greenberg, and Solomon, 2003). According to the theory, peo¬ 
ple’s knowledge of their impending death compels the construction and 
defense of cultural ideologies that guarantee immortality (such as political 
ideologies), and striving for lasting personal value within these cultural 
frameworks. 

More than 400 studies carried out in over a dozen countries have 
produced findings in accord with hypotheses derived from TMT (for 
a review, see Greenberg, Solomon, and Arndt, 2008). Many of these 
studies test the mortality salience hypothesis: If cultural worldviews and 
self-esteem provide us with a sense of immortality, then making people’s 
mortality salient should lead people to bolster and defend their cultural 
worldviews (i.e., worldview defense ) and to strive more at tasks that provide 
them self-esteem. Studies show, for example, that participants who write 
a few sentences about their death (compared to another topic) are more 
favorable to people who validate their worldview (e.g., their nationality 
and religious beliefs) and are more disparaging of people who criticize 
it (Greenberg et al., 2008). Importantly, however, participants in these 
studies are not consciously aware that thoughts of death are driving their 
defensive behaviors. 

Accordingly, over eighty studies have also shown support for the death 
thought accessibility hypothesis - namely, that threatening the constructs 
people rely on for symbolic immortality will increase the extent to which 
cognitions about death are accessible outside immediate consciousness. 
In many of these studies, presenting people with information threaten¬ 
ing aspects of their worldview or self-esteem elevates the accessibility of 
death-related thought, but not of other negative cognitions, suggesting 
that investment in these constructs serves to ameliorate concerns with 
mortality in particular (see Hayes, Schimel, Arndt et al., 2010, for a 
review). 

The need to deny death is thus at least partly responsible for people’s 
pursuit and creation of symbolic meaning and self-esteem. Without the 
constant threat of death - the promised event forming the outer limit of 
our identities - humans would not be driven to construct personal and 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


295 


political identities with the same fervor. Yet how do people conceptualize 
the threat of death in their everyday lives? Even if belief in the transcen¬ 
dence of a political or religious group affords people the conviction that 
they are persons of worth destined for immortality, they are still forced at 
times to contemplate death, as when they are faced by natural disasters 
or the loss of loved ones. TMT suggests that focused awareness of the 
reality that death is ultimately inevitable and could come at any moment 
from a variety of unpredictable environmental sources is psychologically 
untenable. In order to avoid preoccupation with such a disturbing con¬ 
ceptualization of death, people must find some other interpretation of 
the dangers lurking in their environment. 

The existential anthropologists Ernest Becker (1969) and Mary 
Douglas (1966) propose that personal enemyship is one defense on which 
people often rely to cope with the awareness of the myriad hazards threat¬ 
ening them with destruction. Personal enemyship is the perception that 
another person or persons are using power and influence to undermine 
one’s goals and well-being. By tracing all potential sources of threat back 
to a focal enemy who can be monitored, one gains a sense of control and 
some mastery over the problem of impending death. 

Yet, as Becker (1969) argued, perceived enemies do not only augment 
the individual’s sense of personal control in a world of random sources of 
potentially lethal hazard. In addition to this control-maintenance func¬ 
tion, enemies can also be used to absolve the individual of personal guilt, 
an oft-cited function of the scapegoat. More generally, enemies are often 
used in the construction of a valued personal identity. 

Anthropological evidence supports the contention that, in cultures 
around the globe, enemies often serve the different proximal functions 
identified by Becker. Douglas (1966) argues that members of diverse 
cultures around the world associate enemies with enigmatic forces oper¬ 
ating outside culturally sanctioned patterns for appearance and behavior. 
In this way, the presence of enemies reinforces (through contrast) the 
individuals’ sense of who they are: a valuable person with an explicit, 
sanctioned identity. In addition to this identity-maintenance function, 
belief in malevolent people and supernatural agents has been shown to 
help satisfy motives to bolster personal control among South Africans 
(e.g., Ashforth, 2001) and to reduce guilt among people living in rural 
areas of Ghana (Mendonsa, 1982) and Burma (Spiro, 1967). 

It is important to note that although Becker asserted that enemies 
and scapegoats are used in multiple ways to maintain a sense of one’s 
valued identity, he believed (as do we) that the diverse functions served 
by enemies ultimately fulfill the more distal goal of obtaining symbolic 
immortality (and thereby denying death). The implication of this analysis 
is that death denial is not a simple process; individuals require multiple 


296 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

psychological structures - such as a valued personal identity and a sense 
that the world is controllable - to effectively assuage the fear of mor¬ 
tality. Similarly, although the different functions of enemyship may be 
ultimately traced back to death denial, it is useful in empirical studies 
to separately examine how enemyship upholds the intermediate struc¬ 
tures sheltering the individual from this supreme terror (for a related 
perspective, see Sullivan, Landau, and Kay, 2012). 

All the processes of interpersonal enemyship are exacerbated, through 
group psychological phenomena, at the political level. Like personal ene¬ 
mies, political enemies and scapegoats serve four existential functions 
for individuals and groups: direct death denial, as well as the distinct 
death-denying functions of identity maintenance, control maintenance, 
and guilt denial (Becker, 1975). In previous social-psychological studies, 
these four functions have been separately examined. Using our integra¬ 
tive existential theory, we will weave these previously separate lines of 
inquiry together and show how the different functions of enemyship are 
interrelated. 


Enemyship in service of death denial 

Becker posited that enemyship buffers people from thoughts of death 
that - because they are repressed - are not typically available to introspec¬ 
tive awareness. How, then, can we empirically test this analysis? TMT 
addresses this question with a dual-process model of defense against the 
awareness of mortality. When people are consciously aware of their mor¬ 
tality, they typically respond with so-called proximal defenses: They deny 
their vulnerability to death in an immediate and literal way. However, 
when death-related cognitions are resonating at the fringes of conscious¬ 
ness, people respond with distal defense: They cling to symbolic con¬ 
structs that have nothing literally to do with physical death but rather 
function to uphold a basis for symbolic immortality (see Greenberg, 
Landau, and Arndt, 2013). In this way, people rely on symbolically 
mediated processes - like enemyship - to deny death indirectly, with¬ 
out conscious awareness that their defense functions as a form of denial. 

In line with this model, numerous studies have shown that when 
thoughts of mortality are accessible but outside current focal attention, 
people are more likely to engage in political enemyship as a distal defense 
against death. For example, some of the earliest studies demonstrating 
terror-management processes (Greenberg, Pyszczynski, Solomon et al., 
1990) did so by showing that reminders of death (relative to reminders 
of other topics) increased US participants’ subsequent tendency to 
engage in worldview defense, which was measured in the form of both 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


297 


participants’ liking for a person who praised the USA and their dislike 
for someone who attacked US values. It is important to recognize that 
in these studies, revulsion against a hated out-group member was just 
as important a response to nonconscious death concerns as attraction 
towards a person who affirmed one’s political values. More dramatic 
evidence comes from studies (McGregor, Lieberman, Greenberg et al., 
1998) showing that death thoughts (compared to a control condition) 
actually increased participants’ physical aggression against a person who 
belonged to an opposing political party. 

Additional research on political worldview defense induced by mor¬ 
tality salience has explicated many of the details of this process. For 
example, Castano, Yzerbyt, Paladino et al. (2002) found that mortality 
reminders increased bias for one’s national in-group relative to another 
nation, and that this effect occurred through a corresponding increase 
in the perceived entitativity, or cohesiveness, of one’s in-group, as well 
as increased identification with the group. In other words, reminders of 
one’s personal mortality induce attempts to identify with a group (polit¬ 
ical or otherwise) seen as transcending the self and being in some sense 
an immortal, lasting entity. This bid for immortality through political 
identification comes with a price, however - an immediate heightened 
revulsion towards political enemies and other groups. 

Political enemyship elicited by death-related anxiety can have some 
surprisingly counterintuitive and insidious effects. In one study (Hayes, 
Schimel, and Williams, 2008), Christian participants who read an article 
threatening their religious worldview showed an increase in the accessi¬ 
bility of death-related thoughts. This follows from the TMT perspective 
that our cultural worldviews provide us with an anxiety buffer protect¬ 
ing against the awareness of death: When our protective cultural beliefs 
are attacked, death anxiety creeps back into conscious awareness. Most 
interestingly, however, if worldview-threatened participants read an arti¬ 
cle about several Muslims dying in a plane crash - in other words, if 
members of what could be perceived as an enemy group perished - they 
did not show an increase in death-related thoughts. In other words, learn¬ 
ing of the death of one’s enemy alleviates a heightened concern with one’s 
own death that is otherwise present under threat. Death denial (perhaps 
ironically) motivates individuals not only to seek out enemies but also to 
be invested in their destruction. 


Enemyship in service of identity maintenance 

Our brief review of the role of death concerns in fueling intergroup ene¬ 
myship points to a key assumption of the social scientific investigation 


298 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

of political enemyship: enemies reinforce (political) identities. As dis¬ 
cussed, focused mortality salience seems to elevate enemyship via an 
increased sense of in-group identification (Castano et al., 2002). Other 
work in social psychology has focused more exclusively on the connection 
between enemyship and the construction and maintenance of social iden¬ 
tities (of course, for Becker, the goal of identity maintenance ultimately 
served the purpose of death denial). 

Research in the social identity theory tradition suggests that mere com¬ 
parisons between one’s in-group and an out-group will automatically 
orient the individual towards enemyship-related cognitions, particularly 
to the extent that the individual is invested in the in-group as a positive 
source of identity. For example, when people are asked to think about 
their (national) in-group relative to various out-groups, positive correla¬ 
tions emerge between one’s sense of pride in and identification with the 
in-group, on the one hand, and derogation of out-groups on the other 
hand (Mummendey, Klink, and Brown, 2001). However, these corre¬ 
lations are weaker if one has not been explicitly primed to engage in 
intergroup comparison. 

Of course, political leaders have long recognized the power of ori¬ 
enting their followers towards comparisons with enemy out-groups to 
escalate in-group identification and foster political zeal. The tactic of 
rallying individuals to support the in-group more fervently by pointing 
to the presence of a scapegoat or enemy group has historically been 
most successful in situations of widespread social uncertainty (a point 
to which we will return in a later section of this chapter). Accordingly, 
research shows that the likelihood that people’s strivings for group-based 
identity will prompt them to derogate enemies is increased in uncertain 
circumstances (e.g., Hogg, 2012). When individuals are feeling uncer¬ 
tain about their future (and particularly their economic future) they 
have a greater preference for membership in radical or authoritarian 
groups with rigid identities (Hogg, Meehan, and Farquharson, 2010; 
Sales, 1972). Clear political identities can resolve feelings of uncertainty, 
while often reinforcing (and being reinforced by) processes of politi¬ 
cal enemyship and polarization. For example, when US Democrats and 
Republicans were induced to feel uncertain about key aspects of their 
lives, they evinced a positive correlation between perceptions that their 
political party is an entitative group and of the relative polarization of 
their party’s attitudes on important issues compared to the other group 
(Sherman, Hogg, and Maitner, 2009). In short, uncertainty about one’s 
identity prompts construal of one’s political group as having a clear 
identity to the extent that it is contrasted with that of an enemy out¬ 
group. 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


299 


Enemyship in service of control maintenance 

Becker (1969, 1975) proposed that because people recognize that the 
environments through which they move are filled with random sources of 
hazard, they are motivated to see themselves as having powerful enemies 
to whom all potential danger may be traced. Relatively speaking, human 
enemies are easy to predict, avoid, and even defeat. This analysis suggests 
an interesting hypothesis - namely, that it is exactly when people feel like 
their sense of personal control is under threat that they should be most 
desirous of having powerful enemies. 

We (Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010) tested this hypothesis 
in the political arena just prior to the 2008 US presidential election. 
We primed half of our participants with a reminder that they have lit¬ 
tle control over multiple sources of hazard, ranging from communica¬ 
ble diseases to accidents during travel. The other participants were not 
reminded of such hazards. We then asked participants the extent to which 
they endorsed different conspiracy theories claiming that the candidate 
opposed to their preferred candidate was orchestrating attempts to steal 
the election. In confirmation of our hypothesis, those participants whose 
sense of control had been threatened were more likely to believe that their 
political enemy (in this case, either President Barack Obama or Senator 
John McCain) had enough power and malicious intent to rig the election. 

Becker’s analysis suggests that this effect occurred because people rely 
on identifiable enemies to maintain control in a chaotic world. If this 
is indeed the case, then we would expect that having a clear enemy 
would actually increase people’s sense of control under threatening cir¬ 
cumstances. To test this, we (Rothschild, Landau, Sullivan et al, 2012) 
drew on the observation that enemies can be used as scapegoats to explain 
particular cases of hazard. Complex and long-term threats like global 
climate change that are difficult to comprehend can be perceived as 
uncontrollable. However, if such a threat can be blamed on a particular 
scapegoat group, this might increase people’s conviction that they under¬ 
stand the cause of the threat and that it therefore is not beyond their 
personal control. 

Accordingly, we (Rothschild et al., 2012) exposed some participants 
to a portrayal of global climate change as a poorly understood threat, 
and others to information suggesting that the causes of this catastrophe 
are well understood. Participants were then presented with information 
either about a group that could serve as a viable scapegoat for explaining 
climate change (oil companies), or about a group that could not rea¬ 
sonably explain this threat (the Amish). Among those participants who 
thought about climate change as an unexplained threat, personal control 


300 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

was increased if they were given oil companies as a scapegoat to explain 
the phenomenon. Thus, evidence shows not only that people will artifi¬ 
cially imbue enemies and scapegoats with power in order to bolster their 
sense of control, but also that exposure to these targets does in fact serve 
this function. 


Enemyship in service of guilt denial 

Political enemies do not only help individuals maintain valued identities 
by providing them with a sense of personal control. Enemies can also be 
used as scapegoats in the more traditional sense of the term, meaning 
people can transfer blame for negative events from themselves to their 
enemies, absolving themselves of guilt. This tactic is used frequently 
by political pundits and party leaders, as when Democrats attempt to 
portray Republicans as responsible for the current problems in the US 
economy, and vice versa. 

In our studies on scapegoating in response to the threat of climate 
change (Rothschild et al., 2012), we examined the possibility that this 
process can facilitate guilt denial in addition to control maintenance. In 
one study, college students were presented with descriptions of climate 
change as either a poorly understood, uncontrollable threat, or as the 
direct fault of the participants’ group (i.e., young Americans). The lat¬ 
ter framing posed a threat to the moral value of that group’s identity, 
and thereby to the self. Relative to a neutral control condition, partic¬ 
ipants were more likely to scapegoat oil companies for climate change 
in either threat condition; but whereas the effect of a control threat on 
scapegoating was mediated by perceived personal control, the effect of a 
moral value threat occurred through guilt feelings. Furthermore, mirror¬ 
ing the results described in the previous section, participants who were 
blamed for climate change but then presented with a viable scapegoat 
group showed reduced feelings of personal guilt compared to blamed 
participants presented with a nonviable target. In addition, exposure to 
a scapegoat reduced participants’ willingness to take personal action to 
stop climate change after being blamed for this catastrophe. 

In sum, empirical studies have shown that political enemyship and 
scapegoating processes facilitate death and guilt denial as well as identity 
and control maintenance, at both personal and group levels. However, 
social psychologists have not paid a great deal of attention to the broader 
social and cultural factors that might encourage individuals to rely specif¬ 
ically on enemyship processes as a means of satisfying these existential 
motives. Obviously, people can deny death, establish clear identities, 
maintain a sense of personal control, and unburden themselves of guilt 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


301 


through a variety of outlets and mechanisms (despite the fact that, as 
many of the cited theorists have argued, enemyship seems to be a promi¬ 
nent means of fulfilling these functions across different cultural and his¬ 
torical settings). Why is it that, today especially, political enemyship, 
conspiracy theories, and related phenomena seem to be on the rise (as 
many of the chapters in this volume attest to)? To answer this question, 
we will supplement the existential theory of enemyship with a sociological 
perspective. 


A sociological perspective on political enemyship 

The sociological literature on enemyship and scapegoating has yielded at 
least three major insights. These insights help us understand: (1) how the 
process of socially constructing political enemies tends to imbue them 
with certain characteristics; (2) the social circumstances under which 
enemyship processes are most likely to occur in general (a factor we 
refer to as “quantitative variation in enemyship”); and (3) the social 
circumstances under which certain kinds of enemyship or scapegoating 
processes are more likely to occur than others (what we refer to as “quali¬ 
tative variation in enemyship”). We discuss each of these insights in turn. 
Some of our research has provided initial support for the first two points; 
however, the model of qualitative variation in enemyship remains largely 
untested, and therefore stands out as a potential starting point for future 
interdisciplinary research. 


The social construction of ambiguously powerful enemies 

Political enemies are social constructions or collective representations 
(Berger and Luckmann, 1966; Smith, 1996). As Sartre (1948) argued, 
enemy groups are often imbued with such fantastic qualities that their 
representation ceases to have any real connection to their actual behav¬ 
ior, as in the case of the view of Jewish people as world-dominating 
conspirators held by many anti-Semites. Drawing on these ideas, Smith 
(1996) argued that certain forms of enemyship adopt the status of chime- 
ria : socially constructed visions of a political figure or group that ascribe 
them fantastic powers beyond their actual reach. 

Douglas (1966) described this quality of chimeria possessed by ene¬ 
mies in terms of the process of attributing ambiguous power to the enemy. 
In other words, people see their enemies as capable of perpetrating a 
wide range of misdeeds, and as operating outside the boundaries of con¬ 
doned or conventionally understood power. If we draw on our existential 


302 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

theory of political enemyship, it is easy to understand why enemies would 
be socially constructed as ambiguously powerful. Such representations 
readily allow people to use enemies as scapegoats to satisfy control main¬ 
tenance and guilt-denial functions, because they are believed capable of 
carrying out a variety of misdeeds. In contrast, explicit representations of 
an enemy’s capabilities and shortcomings limit the range of hazards and 
negative outcomes that can be attributed to them. In addition, as men¬ 
tioned earlier, this process facilitates identity maintenance: In a concep¬ 
tion of the world as a struggle between Good and Evil, an ambiguously 
powerful enemy serves as a point of contrast to define more explicitly 
the in-group’s power as benevolent, morally sanctioned, honorable, and 
trustworthy. 

In one of our studies (Sullivan et al., 2010), we tested the sociolog¬ 
ical hypothesis that enemies perceived as ambiguously powerful would 
be most effective at performing a control-maintenance function. Partici¬ 
pants whose sense of control was threatened and who were then exposed 
to a portrayal of the terrorist group Al-Qaeda as ambiguously power¬ 
ful (e.g., enigmatic and poorly understood) actually showed higher per¬ 
ceptions of personal control than participants exposed to a portrayal of 
Al-Qaeda as weak or as having well-understood powers. This finding pro¬ 
vides critical support for the idea that we construct ambiguous enemies 
to satisfy existential motives for control, because it is rather counterin¬ 
tuitive. Superficially, one would assume that exposure to a weak enemy 
would be more likely to boost control than exposure to a powerful one. 
However, ambiguous enemies serve as focal objects to which diverse 
sources of risk can be attributed. Accordingly, we found that the increase 
in perceived personal control occurred through a reduction in the per¬ 
ception of randomly distributed future risk among those participants who 
thought about Al-Qaeda as an ambiguously powerful enemy. 


Quantitative variation in enemyship and scapegoating 
processes 

The thrust of our hypothesis regarding quantitative variation in enemy- 
ship lies in a sociological formula provided by Douglas (1966). In ordered 
systems - social environments where norms for behavior are clear, individ¬ 
uals have a basic sense of existential security, and institutions are stable 
and trusted - people tend to respond to threats to their basic motives by 
bolstering the perceived power of benevolent sources of authority, such 
as the government or a supreme deity. Within such ordered systems, 
religious beliefs, a sense of civic responsibility, or feelings of patriotism 
often serve to meet the various existential needs that, as Becker argued, 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


303 


enemies can also fulfill. In disordered systems - environments where norms 
are unclear, people feel existentially insecure, and institutions are unsta¬ 
ble and distrusted - people tend to respond to threats to their motives 
through enemyship processes. In other words, when people cannot turn 
to broader social institutions (such as religion or a sense of national¬ 
ism) to obtain existential equanimity, they will be more likely to rely on 
enemies to meet this need. 

This analysis has been supported in different historical and sociolog¬ 
ical analyses. For example, Staub (1989) examined cases of genocide - 
such as the Nazi Holocaust and the Turkish genocide of Armenians - 
and found that they all occurred under what he referred to as difficult life 
conditions , meaning the widespread presence of economic problems and 
violence in a society, rapid industrialization and technological advance 
in a society, or both. Staub (1989) proposes that difficult life conditions 
threaten people’s basic sense of positive identity and perceived control, 
and that people often respond to this system disorder through scape¬ 
goating. In related analyses, sociologists have argued that conditions of 
social fragmentation (stemming from globalization processes and finan¬ 
cial crises) have contributed substantially to the recent rise of radical, 
right-wing populist movements in Western Europe and the USA (Anto¬ 
nio, 2000; Betz, 1994; Smith, 1996). These movements often include as 
a primary ideological component the vilification of immigrant out-groups 
and other political enemies. 

Building on this context-specific sociological research, we (Sullivan 
et al., 2010) experimentally tested the notion that people would be more 
likely to rely on enemyship for control maintenance under general condi¬ 
tions of system disorder. Specifically, we manipulated whether American 
participants saw the USA as an ordered system in which economic and 
law enforcement institutions are reliable, or as a disordered system with a 
fragile economy and unstable government. Participants primed with sys¬ 
tem order and a threat to personal control ascribed more compensatory 
power to the US government, but those primed with system disorder 
instead responded to a control threat with elevated perceptions of the 
power of their personal enemies. 


Qualitative variation in enemyship and scapegoating 
processes 

As has been clear throughout this chapter, enemyship and scapegoat¬ 
ing are not uniform phenomena: they can arise as a primary function 
of different motives, and in a variety of nuanced ways. Furthermore, 
these processes can be examined at multiple levels. For example, we can 


304 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

distinguish between the antagonistic relationship of two enemy individ¬ 
uals and the political enmity of two opposing parties. We have argued 
that enemyship of all kinds is more likely to occur in disordered systems. 
But we believe it is also possible to predict, as a function of certain social 
conditions that might coincide with general system disorder, the forms 
of enemyship that will be most afforded under particular sociohistorical 
circumstances. 

At least the sketch of such a model of qualitative variation in enemy- 
ship is provided by Douglas (1994). She identifies three general patterns 
that foster differing forms of enemyship. By distinguishing between these 
patterns, we acknowledge that a disordered social system can be man¬ 
ifested in various ways. The first pattern could be described as system 
disorder under general conditions of existential insecurity. Here we use the 
term “existential insecurity” in a sociological sense (Norris and Ingle- 
hart, 2004) to indicate societies where the majority of individuals do 
not feel that they are adequately protected against prominent dangers 
(e.g., disease or death through warfare). We refer to the second pattern 
as system disorder under totalitarianism. The final pattern distinguished by 
Douglas is best described as system disorder with resource inequality. We 
will briefly describe how system disorder manifests differently in each 
of these potential sociohistorical patterns, and present hypotheses about 
the type and function of political enemyship that will likely occur under 
each. 


System disorder under general conditions of existential insecurity 

This pattern might be considered the “rawest” form of system disor¬ 
der. When most individuals in a society feel that their lives are under 
daily threat, from either violence or unfavorable environmental circum¬ 
stances, there are few countervailing social structures to alleviate a sense 
of widespread system disorder. This pattern might describe the life con¬ 
ditions of many early human groups in the environment of evolutionary 
adaptedness, but it persists today in regions characterized by civil war or a 
history of devastating economic exploitation by colonial powers. Accord¬ 
ing to Douglas (1994), in such circumstances individuals often dedicate 
their allegiance to small groups which provide a minimal amount of exis¬ 
tential security. This analysis is partly supported by research (Gelfand, 
Raver, Nishii et al., 2011) showing that nations characterized by existen¬ 
tial insecurity tend to have “tight” cultures, wherein individuals sacrifice 
individual interests to the benefit of the group. For example, Pakistan is 
a country that in its recent history has struggled with population density, 
political instability, terrorism, and major damage from natural disasters 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


305 


(such as flooding and earthquakes). It also scores very high on measures 
of cultural tightness, such as the perception that strong norms for behav¬ 
ior in particular situations are shared by all group members (Gelfand 
et al., 2011). 

The tightly organized groups that fight for survival under these condi¬ 
tions often view most out-groups as enemies. Of course, under general 
conditions of existential insecurity, resources are typically scarce, and 
groups are often actively involved in real conflicts over basic means of 
survival. Enemyship in these circumstances is most likely to be mani¬ 
fested as intergroup hostility. In addition to the potential for winning 
better access to limited resources, this intergroup enemyship also serves 
important symbolic functions. Enemyship in these circumstances pri¬ 
marily facilitates death denial and identity maintenance. By identifying 
a hated out-group as the source of all evil, groups can gain a sense of 
symbolic immortality even under material conditions of existential inse¬ 
curity. And in a disordered system where group boundaries are often in 
a potential state of flux (e.g., an infrastructure is lacking for the assign¬ 
ment of formal citizenship), the construction of an enemy out-group 
helps solidify in-group identity and membership. 


System disorder under totalitarian conditions 

In many historical situations, conditions of economic and political dis¬ 
order have set the stage for the temporary rise of a totalitarian regime. 
Here we use the term “totalitarianism” to refer to the (sometimes forced, 
sometimes willing) submission of people’s individual liberties to an auto¬ 
cratic leader with a heroic vision of the in-group’s identity (Fromm, 1941; 
Marcuse, 2009/1968). The widespread uncertainty about the future and 
personal value that characterizes system disorder often increases the will¬ 
ingness of individuals to support a tyrannical but forceful leader and 
regime that at least offer some certain vision of what the future will hold 
and of who is valuable in society. 

In some instances, totalitarianism can rise due to the exclusive use 
of brute military force; however, in most instances, certain groups of 
people within the social system willingly allow the totalitarian govern¬ 
ment to come to power. This usually occurs (at least in part) because 
the totalitarian leader(s) identifies a scapegoat on which in-group mem¬ 
bers can blame the current circumstances of system disorder (Douglas, 
1994). The regime promises to expunge the scapegoat group, or at least 
remove them from power, and through this process to restore order, sym¬ 
bolic value, and prosperity to the in-group. As individuals generally seek 
scapegoats when their feelings of personal control and moral worthiness 


306 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 

are under threat, system disorder increases the likelihood that they will 
sacrifice liberties in exchange for a scapegoat ideology and the promise 
of renewed order. 

Thus, in these circumstances, enemyship typically takes the form of the 
persecution of a minority scapegoat group. In addition to aiding the total¬ 
itarian regime’s rise to power, this form of enemyship primarily serves 
symbolic functions of death and guilt denial. The compelling leader con¬ 
structs a simplistic dualist ideology of perpetual warfare between the good 
in-group and the evil scapegoat group, which promises in-group mem¬ 
bers a revolutionary sense of immortality, galvanizing their self-sacrificial 
potentialities (Lifton, 1968; Schori, Klar, and Roccas, 2009). At the 
same time, blaming system disorder on the scapegoat group absolves 
in-group members of the potential self-blame and worthlessness they 
might otherwise experience in undesirable economic circumstances. This 
guilt-denial function is bound up with the fact that, under totalitarian 
conditions, scapegoating is often of an intragroup nature: A minority 
subculture that was once part of the in-group is now reconstructed as 
aligned with malevolent forces that must be weeded out to preserve the 
“true” in-group’s purity (Adorno, 2000/1975). And once the totalitar¬ 
ian government begins to commit symbolic and physical violence against 
scapegoated individuals, further vilification - perhaps to the point of 
genocide - of the scapegoat group is necessary to deny a mounting sense 
of potential guilt (Becker, 1975). 


System disorder with resource inequality 

A final sociohistorical manifestation of system disorder is one that is 
increasingly common in the modern world - namely, system disorder 
with sustained income inequality. This form of system disorder is distin¬ 
guishable from that of a totalitarian regime because it can emerge within 
a politically democratic society. In the modern variants of this form, 
unregulated capitalist economic organization allows a radically uneven 
distribution of material and authoritative (e.g., educational, informa¬ 
tional) resources to take place, resulting in large disparities between a 
small number of individuals of high socioeconomic status and a majority 
of lower-status persons (e.g., Giddens, 1983). 

Massive levels of income inequality can generate social-psychological 
conditions of anomie (normlessness) and mistrust between individuals 
(Oishi, Kesebir, and Diener, 2011). With little regulation on the dis¬ 
tribution of and processes for acquiring resources, individuals at the 
lower end of the economic continuum feel dissatisfied and helpless, 
while those at the higher end often become preoccupied with a “dizzying 


Enemyship and scapegoating 


307 


quest” for obtaining a seemingly infinite (but potentially volatile) store of 
wealth (Cloward and Ohlin, 1960; Dumenil and Levy, 2011). Further¬ 
more, the deregulated capitalist mode of socioeconomic organization that 
often generates income inequality simultaneously fosters a consumerist 
psychology and a plurality of values which leave the individual uncer¬ 
tain about the proper routes to achieving a valued identity (Simmel, 
1978/1900). Under these circumstances, general feelings of uncertainty 
and looming control threat combine with high levels of mistrust to ele¬ 
vate reliance on political enemyship and conspiracy theories for psycho¬ 
logical equanimity (Douglas, 1994). In short, individuals use enemies 
primarily to maintain a sense of personal control, tracing their economic 
misfortunes (or potential misfortunes) back to the alleged machinations 
of politicians and others whom they see as possessing more power and 
resources than they. At the same time, those who have higher socioeco¬ 
nomic status under conditions of mass income inequality often scapegoat 
the working class, attempting to project any guilt they might feel for their 
superior fortune by seeing those worse off than them as responsible for 
their fate. 

To summarize, we predict that when system disorder takes the form 
of general existential insecurity, enemyship will be manifested as inter¬ 
group hostility, facilitating death denial and identity maintenance; when 
it takes the form of totalitarianism, enemyship will be manifested as the 
scapegoating of a minority group, facilitating death and guilt denial; and 
when it takes the form of resource inequality, enemyship will be man¬ 
ifested in conspiracy theories and other forms of political enemyship, 
facilitating control maintenance and guilt denial. Although some histori¬ 
cal and sociological data support these hypotheses concerning qualitative 
variation in enemyship, the model remains at this point mostly specula¬ 
tive. However, for scholars interested in making predictions about the 
types of enemyship and scapegoating processes that are likely to emerge 
in future social, economic, and political circumstances, these hypotheses 
offer fertile ground for empirical research. 


Conclusion 

We believe that the existential-sociological framework outlined in this 
chapter offers a powerful explanation of enemyship processes. At the 
beginning of this chapter, we proposed that a valid account of enemy- 
ship should explain both its basic irrationality and its multiplicity of 
form and function. Building on classic and contemporary perspectives in 
existential psychology, our framework explains enemyship’s irrationality 
as stemming from an urgent need to allay the anxiety inherent in our 


308 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer 


existential situation - where every part of us desires to live, yet we know 
that that desire will inevitably be thwarted. Hence, we desperately strive 
to transcend mortality by constructing a valued identity and defending 
that fragile symbolic construction against anything that threatens to inval¬ 
idate it. Drawing on sociological analyses of the factors behind differences 
in political ideology and overarching worldview, our framework explains 
multiformity in enemyship as a function of social structural elements 
that shape collective beliefs about how much order exists in the social 
system, where that order originates, and the availability of opportunities 
to establish a valued identity. 

Throughout this chapter we have seen how this framework can be used 
to integrate theories and laboratory evidence across a range of disciplines 
and research programs, as well as to generate novel, testable hypothe¬ 
ses that warrant further study. Our existential-sociological perspective 
does not fully replace realistic conflict theories and other accounts that 
might explain enemyship in terms of practical struggles between political 
groups. However, it goes further than such perspectives to explain some 
rather counterintuitive findings, such as the fact that people will actu¬ 
ally feel a heightened sense of personal control when they contemplate a 
powerful enemy. As a final demonstration of the usefulness of our model, 
we will conclude by highlighting a few suggestions it offers for inter¬ 
ventions that might reduce the prevalence of enemyship over the long 
term. 

One possibility - against the arguments of theorists like Schmitt who 
insist on the necessity of intergroup conflict - is to redirect enemyship 
processes such that people focus their malice on common enemies, like 
world hunger and disease. But another broad possibility is to promote 
societal conditions of anxiety-buffering order - or at least the percep¬ 
tion of order - by investing faith in benevolent leaders and institutions. 
Different ways to achieve this goal are suggested by our model of qual¬ 
itative variation in enemyship. Simply helping people meet their basic 
demands for survival, and thereby increasing their felt existential secu¬ 
rity, should reduce enemyship. At a more symbolic level, in disordered 
circumstances where the rise of totalitarianism seems like a possibility, 
people should be offered a positive vision of their group as having a valued 
- and humanitarian - identity, to counteract the appeal of a revolutionary 
fascist vision rooted in enemyship. Finally, in postindustrial conditions 
of widespread income inequality, measures should be taken to restore to 
individuals a sense of personal control and agency in their life circum¬ 
stances, so that the need for enemyship and conspiratorial ideologies is 
reduced. Naturally, working to reduce income inequality itself is the most 
straightforward means of accomplishing this aim. 



Enemyship and scapegoating 


309 


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Index 


2005 London bombing, 226, 261 
9/11, 226, 254, 274, 287 
abstention, 150 
abstract language, 55 
abstract thinking, 55 
accountability, 45 
accuracy, 167 
accuracy in (dis)trust, 108 
action-reaction 
cycles, 209 
active, 36 

Acton, Lord, 18, 25, 53 
adaptive, 101 
admiration, 99 
adultery, 29 
advantaged, 109 
affect, 98 

affective primacy, 100 
affordances 

psychological, relational, and material, 

106 

African-Americans, 223, 229, 243, 274 
African opposition leader, 248 
aggression against out-groups, 152 
agreeableness, 163, 227, 275 
A1 Qaeda, 237, 302 
alcohol, 23, 29 
alien conspiracies, 283 
alienation 
political, 275 
alliances, 38 
ambivalent sexism, 93 
American National Election Study, 178 
AMOS, 283 
ancestors, 106 
angry minds, 221, 254 
anomie, 226, 261, 306 
anthropological evidence, 295 
anti-immigration rhetoric, 159 
antipathy, 204, 210 
anti-Semites, 301 
antisocial behavior, 54 


anxiety, 59, 202 
appraisal, 207 

approach/inhibition theory of power, 34, 

75 

Asch, Solomon, 92 
aspirations, 107, 118 
assassination, 274 
atheists, 154 
atrocities, 131 
20th century, 10 
attention, 57, 66 
attitude polarization, 224 
attitudes, 101, 150 
anti-immigrant, 154 
anti-Semitic, 259 
sociopolitical, 153 
attribution 

non-personalistic, 241 
personalistic, 241 
attributional analyses, 201 
attributional complexity, 123 
authoritarian 
aggression, 276 
submission, 276 
authoritarian governments, 131 
authoritarian groups, 298 
authoritarian leadership, 140 
authoritarian personality, 276 
authority, 62, 140 
autocratic, 131 
autonomy, 130, 153 

Baker, Howard, 92 
bankers, 73 
basic needs, 107 
Becker, Ernest, 295 

behavioral approach system (BAS), 34, 75 

behavioral inhibition system, 34, 75 

Belgium, 180 

belief system, 257 

beliefs, 159 

benevolence, 24, 109 


312 



Index 


313 


Berlusconi, Silvio, 9, 150 

moral scandals and trials, 169 
popularity, 171 
success, 169 
supporters, 158 
voters, 154 

between-country variation, 188 
between-group phenomenon, 242 
bias 

group-enhancing, 204 
self-serving, 204 
sinister attribution, 208 
biased punctuation, 208 
Big Five, 133, 227, 277 
big picture, 56 
bike-theft, 23 

bin Laden, Osama, 212, 258 
birth control, 243 
Bloomberg, Michael, 26 
Bolsheviks, 218 
Brazil, 42 

British Inventory of Mental Pathology, 280 

Burke, Edmund, 177 

Bush, George H. W., 92 

Bush, George W., 279 

business, 26 

business simulation, 82 

capitalist economic organization, 306 
Carter, Jimmy, 92 
Cassandras, 212 
catastrophe, 300 
Catholic Church, 154 
Catholics, 191 
causal attributions, 123 
causal connections, 209 
causal relation, 74, 260 
caution, 193 
CEOs, 2, 27, 56, 213 
chaos, 67 
chaotic world, 299 
chimeria, 301 
China, 114 
churches, 177 
Churchill, Winston, 212 
citizens, 1, 130 
nonelite, 110 
civil liberties, 112 
climate change, 10, 239, 256, 299 
closed-minded, 260 
cluster, 98 
coalition, 151 
right-wing, 154 
coercion, 140 
cognitive bias, 224 


cognitive infiltration, 231 
cognitive mechanism, 66 
cognitive misers, 55 
cognitive processes, 200 
cognitively available, 224 
cohesion, 285 
Cold War, 177 
collective action, 250 
collective goals, 132, 163 
collective interest, 7 
collective victimization, 244 
collectivism, 42 
horizontal, 81 
colonial powers, 304 
colonialism, 108, 113 
communication strategy, 171 
communism, 11, 17, 158 
communist threat, 170 
companies, 59 
comparable data, 185 
compassion, 54 
competence, 8, 54, 92 
competition, 102, 200 
conceal, 256 
confederate, 36, 40 
confidence, 28, 55 
confidence game, 102 
confidence gap, 9, 177 
confirmation bias, 58 
conflict, 122, 137, 142, 199 
approach-avoidance, 204 
history of, 209 
intergroup, 240, 308 
conformist, 44 
conformity, 117, 139, 153 
conformity biases, 225 
Congress, 183 
Connally, John, 92 
connectedness, 240, 245 
conscientiousness, 163 
conscious awareness, 45 
conservative agenda, 153 
conservative orientation, 160 
consistency, 123 
conspiracism, 255, 267 
conspiracist ideation, 222, 224 
conspiracy 

exaggerated perception of, 209 
German, 199 
organizational, 282 

conspiracy beliefs, 10, 237, 246, 255, 273 
conspiracy theories, 218, 230, 237, 243, 
255, 257, 275, 292 
adherents versus skeptics of, 268 
nature of, 266 


314 


Index 


conspiracy theorist, 255 
conspiracy theory questionnaire, 278 
conspiratorial networks, 224 
conspiratorial politics, 219 
consumers, 108 
contemporary societies, 106 
contraceptives, 244 
control 

absolute, 131 
asymmetry in, 78 
lack of, 75, 205, 260 
maintenance, 300 
over citizens, 141 
over resources, 78, 102 
personal, 67, 299 
sense of, 295 
social, 161 
threats to, 238 
conventionalism, 152, 276 
convictions, 255, 293 
cooperative arrangements, 109 
coping behavior, 207 
correspondence 

traits and behavior, 56 
correspondence bias, 138 
corruption, 5, 21, 29, 53, 57, 114, 192 
Corruption Perception Index, 94 
cosmopolitan communications, 112 
cover-up, 259 
creativity, 140 
credulity, 64 
credulous, 218 
towards power, 53 
criminal, 2 
criminality, 158 

crippled epistemology, 223, 231, 261 
crisis, 130 
culture, 80, 94 

collectivism versus individualism, 42 
tightness versus looseness, 42 
cynicism, 193, 275 

danger 

perceptions of, 287 

dangerous and competitive worldview, 282 
death, 12, 294, 296 
anxiety, 279, 297 
awareness, 294 
denial, 296 
reminders of, 296 
death penalty, 243 
deception, 247 
decision-making 
corporate, 250 
political, 250 


defense 
distal, 296 
proximal, 296 
delusional, 222, 240, 254 
delusions 
persecutory, 278 
democracy, 109, 121, 180 
Athenian, 17 

satisfaction with working of, 180 
democratic, 255 
democratic malaise, 177 
democratic principles, 227, 238 
democratic system, 180 
democratization values, 116 
democrats, 244, 298 
demographic correlates 
of political trust, 188 
Denmark, 180 
dependence, 109 
asymmetrical, 102 
high, 204 

depersonalization, 135 
deprivation 
group, 243 
personal, 243 

derogation of outgroups, 298 
destruction, 295 
developing countries, 112 
dialogical belief systems, 256 
dictator, 38 
dictatorship, 185 
diffusion of responsibility, 60 
diplomacy, 130 
disadvantage 

conditions of, 116 
relative, 249 
disadvantaged, 109, 227 
disadvantaged groups, 8, 106 
disadvantaged position, 47 
disconfirmation, 259 
discrimination, 244 
disease, 304 
disempowerment, 107 
disengagement of citizens, 178 
dishonesty, 21 
disinhibition, 5, 28 
distinctive stimuli, 57 
distinctiveness, 43, 139 
distress, 278 
distribution, 20 

distrust, 2, 96, 109, 193, 199, 201 
irrational, 202 
politician-versus-citizen, 9 1 
dominance, 117 
Douglas, Mary, 295 


Index 


315 


dual-process motivational model, 278 
dyadic social structure, 3 
dynamic social structures, 250 
dysfunctional interpersonal behavior, 210 
dysphoric cognitions, 203 
dysphoric rumination, 207 

Earhart, Amelia, 266 
East Asian cultures, 80 
economic instability, 136 
economic problems, 92 
Economist , The , 151 
economy, 300 

Edelman Trust Barometer, 2 
education, 26, 84 
primary and secondary, 112 
efficacy, 171 
egalitarianism, 114, 117 
elections, 91, 168 
elective affinity, 151, 172 
electoral consensus, 151 
electoral system, 184 
emancipative values, 114, 116 
emotions, 98, 100 
empathy, 76 
employees, 1 

empowerment, 107, 116, 228 
objective, 107 
enemy, 222, 292 
enemyship, 12, 292 
personal, 294 
political, 294, 301 
enmity 

history of, 212 
Enron, 5 
entitativity, 139 
entrepreneurship, 156 
envy, 99 
epistemology 
closed, 256 

equal-power relationships, 103 
equanimity, 307 
essentialism, 139 
ethical decision-making, 5 
ethical responsibility, 79 
ethics, 59 
ethnocentric, 154 
EU Commission, 180 
EU member states, 180 
Eurobarometer, 180 
Europe 

Central and Eastern, 182 
European Parliament 
elections for, 178 
European Social Survey, 186, 187 


European Values Study, 178 
evil, 134, 159, 240 
Evil Incarnate, 220, 230 
evolution, 239 
exclusion, 245 
existential, 12, 120 
existential insecurity, 304 
existential motivation, 293 
existential psychology, 307 
existential security, 308 
existential theory, 292, 296 
of political enemyship, 302 
expectations, 58 
pessimistic, 201 
experimental game, 19 
expertise, 45 
exploitation, 108, 164 
extraterrestrial life, 239 
extraversion, 163 
extremists, 231 

fake, 91 

fascism, 17, 170 
Fayed, Mohamed A1-, 258 
fear, 170 

feedback loop, 122 
financial crisis, 219, 229 
fluctuation, 188 
food shortages, 136 
Forbes , 26 
Ford, Gerald, 92 
Fortuyn, Pirn, 181 
France, 180 
fraud, 5, 91 

free market ideology, 156 
freedom, 114 
freedom of choice, 112 
French-Swiss sample, 94 
friend-enemy relations, 293 
fundamental attribution error, 11, 224 

games 

dictator and ultimatum, 119 
Gandhi, Mahatma, 6 
Gates, Bill, 6, 26 
gay marriage, 277 
gender equity norms, 112 
gender gaps, 112 
generalization, 66 

Generalized Sense of Power Scale, 36 
genocide, 306 
German-Swiss sample, 94 
Germany, 180 
global economy, 136 
global hierarchy. 111 


316 


Index 


goal achievement, 74 
goal pursuit, 34 
goals, 76, 102 
good, 134 
Good and Evil 

struggle between, 302 
good-natured, 92 
governance, 10, 117, 227 
government, 106, 110, 144 
responsibilities, 176 
grandiose belief, 282 
greed, 23 

group behavior, 135 
group decision-making, 133 
group distinctiveness, 293 
group dynamic approach 
to power, 74 
group entitativity, 135 
group identity, 132 
group marginalization, 244 
group members 

majority versus minority, 58 
group membership, 135 
group polarization, 11, 225 
group prototypes, 135 
group prototypicality, 137 
group status, 82 
group-dynamic processes, 238 
guilt, 300 

happy mood, 22 
harmony, 43 
hazards, 295 
health, 10, 254 
mental, 263 
hedonic states, 205 
hedonism, 160 
heuristic, 62, 261 

HEXACO model of personality, 164 
hierarchical relationships, 60, 201 
hierarchical trust dilemmas, 11, 200, 
203 
hierarchy 

threats to, 276 
hierarchy reinforcement, 44 
high status groups, 82 
history 

paranoid interpretation of, 221 
Hitler, Adolf, 6, 131,212 
HIV, 229, 274, 279 
Hofstadter, Richard, 219, 222 
Hollander, Edwin, 133 
Holocaust, 10, 303 
homogeneity, 139 
homosexuals, 154 


honest, 92 

honesty-humility, 164 
hostile attribution, 210 
hostility, 238, 244 
intergroup, 307 
human civilization, 143 
hunger, 308 
hypervigilance, 207 
hypocrisy, 5, 23, 24, 54, 123 

identification, 139, 298 
identity, 297 

maintenance function, 295 
national, 130 
personal, 163 

ideological and sociological differences, 

178 

ideological dissonance, 46 
ideological system, 259 
ideology, 139, 152, 153, 244 
idiographic explanatory style, 

256 

idiosyncrasy credits, 133, 138 
idiosyncratic traits, 135 
ignorance of facts, 268 
illegitimacy, 25 
Illuminati, 279 
illusory correlation, 58 
immigrants, 154 
immoral, 2 
immoral behavior, 21 
immortality, 294 
symbolic, 294 
imperialism, 113 
impression formation, 92 
imprisonment, 141 
impulses, 23 
incompetent, 29 
independence, 77 
India, 94 
indifference, 179 
individual differences, 226 
individual motivation, 7 5 
individual self, 248 
individualism, 42 
vertical, 81 
individualization, 178 
individuation, 55 
industrialization, 303 
inequality, 113, 137 
group, 152 
opposition to, 153 
inference, 56 
infidelity, 27 
influence, 110, 132 



Index 


317 


information processing, 75 
ruminative style, 207 
inhibitions, 23 
injustice, 247 
innovation, 140 
innovative change, 47 
institutional constraints, 110 
institutional structures, 118 
institutions, 59, 106, 118, 245 
democratic, 179 
political, 120, 176 
intelligence 

crystallized, 227 
interactionist approach, 133 
interdependence, 200 
intergroup, 113 
context, 238 
intergroup anxiety, 239 
intergroup threat, 238, 239 
internet, 5 
intervention, 122 
intolerance, 139 
intrusive thoughts, 283 
intuitive social scientists, 202 
Iran-Contra affair, 4 
Iraq war, 279 
Ireland, 180 
irrational, 228, 293 
Italian, 158 
economy, 159 
right versus left, 167 
voters, 170 
Italy, 94 

Japan, 42 

Japanese-Americans 

at the beginning of World War II, 

211 

jealousy, 99 
Jews, 218, 239 
JFK film, 225 
July 7, 2005 

terrorist attacks, 226, 261 
jurisdiction, 204 
just world theory, 59, 247, 263 
justice, 115, 263 

Kennedy, Edward, 92 
Kennedy, John E, 218, 226, 237 
kill or be killed, 293 
Kim Il-sung, 131 
Kimjong-il, 131 
Kim Jong-un, 26 
Kipnis, David, 5 
Kissinger, Henry, 273 


Kundera, Milan, 140 

laissez-faire, 154 
LaPiere, Richard, 60 
layperson, 26 
leaders 

corporate, 1, 238 
military, 53 
narcissistic, 55 
national, 130 
political, 1, 53, 91, 238 
prototypical, 9 
religious, 53 

social versus task-oriented, 92 
leadership, 132 
charismatic, 134 
directive, 130 
efficacy, 132 
political, 130 
research, 134 
styles, 133 

transformational, 133 
leadership categorization theory, 134 
left-wing, 153 

legitimacy, 10, 60, 64, 65, 115, 192 
crisis, 177 

legitimizing myths, 115 
liberal orientation, 160 
liberalization, 117 
liberals, 287 
Lincoln, Abraham, 68 
local representatives, 102 
Loch Ness Monster, 9, 177 
low status 
groups, 82 
Luxembourg, 180 
luxury, 23 

Machiavellianism, 167, 255, 262 
Madoff, Bernard, 6, 18 
Mafia, 169 
magical thinking, 278 
mainstream explanations, 223 
majority group 
dominant, 243 
malevolent, 221, 237, 256 
malevolent intent, 199 
malevolent power asymmetries, 109 
malicious intent, 286 
managers, 22, 27, 78, 110 
Mandela, Nelson, 6 
Marcos, Ferdinand, 131 
martyrdom, 293 
materialism, 23 
McCain, John, 299 




318 


Index 


McCarthy, Joseph, 130, 273 
meaning, 228 
symbolic, 294 
media, 73, 151, 261 
Meir, Golda, 273 
memes, 260 
mentally ill, 222 
meta-analysis, 17 
Mexico, 94 

mind-set, disinhibited, 28 
minority groups, 243, 245, 275 
minority parties, 292 
misconnect the dots, 211 
misperception, 209 
mistrust, 33, 193 
mistrustful expectations, 242 
misunderstanding, 200 
modern racism, 277 
money, 23, 46 
monitoring, 123 

monological belief system, 226, 237, 
256, 266 

Monti cabinet, 184 
moon landing 
fake, 10 
moral, 65 

moral character, 61, 62 
moral credentials, 60 
moral identity, 56 
moral judgments, 62 
morality, 59, 109 
model of, 93 
mortality, 292 

mortality salience hypothesis, 294 
motivated social cognition, 152 
motivational theory of basic human 
values, 159 

Muldoon, Robert, 286 
multiculturalism, 154 
Muslims, 219, 239 
British, 232 
fanatical, 138 

Mussolini, Benito, 131, 170 

mutawwa , 110 

myth of self-interest, 242 

narcissism, 222 
NASA 

moon landing, 239 
national in-group, 297 
nationalism, 154 
nationality, 294 
natural disaster, 136, 304 
Nazi Germany, 131 
need for closure, 170 


need for structure, 42, 192 
needs, 110 
negativity bias, 57 
negotiation game, 19 
negotiations, 19 
neoliberal governments, 120 
Netherlands, 180 
neuroticism, 163 
New York City residents, 237 
New Zealand, 280 
Nixon, Richard, 5, 18, 244 
noblesse oblige, 20 
nomothetic, 256 

explanatory style, 257 
nondemocratic, 17 
non-profit companies, 26 
norm violations, 33 
inconsequential, 40 
prosocial, 40 

prosocial versus selfish, 38 
norms, 33 
North Korea, 144 

Obama, Barack, 26, 299 
Obama-McCain election campaign, 100 
occupational specialization, 112 
official explanations, 256 
official story, 287 
oil companies, 239, 256, 299 
omnipotent, 220 
omnipresent, 220 
openness to change, 153 
versus conservatism, 160 
openness to experience, 227 
opportunity, 73, 77 
oppression, 116, 122, 245 
oppressive circumstances, 115 
optimal distinctiveness theory, 239 
organizational citizenship, 101 
organizations, 199 
orientation 

exchange versus communal, 79 
orthodox groups, 141 
Oswald, Lee Harvey, 218, 226 
outcome control, 5 
out-group derogation, 200 
out-group paranoia, 201 
overconfidence, 5 
overly personalistic construal, 208 
over-perception, 209 

pacifism, 154 
Pakistan, 42, 258 
paparazzi, 258 
paradise, 140 


Index 


319 


paradox, 37 

paranoia, 9, 77, 83, 222, 249, 273 
clinical forms of, 4 
collective, 240 
exaggerated, 212 
interpersonal, 240 
interpersonal forms of, 238 
mental illness, 240 
out-group, 200 
situationally induced, 208 
Paranoia Checklist, 278 
paranoid cognition, 4, 202 
intergroup, 203 
paranoid ideation, 228 
Paranoid Ideation Scale, 278 
paranoid style, 219, 221 
paranormal beliefs, 228, 238, 274 
parliament, 156 
trust in, 192 
participation, 101 
participatory politics, 117 
particle-wave duality, 267 
party 

membership rates, 177 
passive, 36 
pathology, 222 
Patriot Act, 130 
patronize, 35 
patterns, 261 

Pearl Harbor, 211, 218, 274 
perfection, 167 
perpetrator, 248 
persecution, 122, 224 
persecutory beliefs, 285 
persecutory delusions, 202 
personal space, 35 

personality, 11, 150, 163, 226, 255, 261 
personalization of politics, 150 
person-positivity bias, 185 
perspective taking, 5, 245, 248 
persuasion, 142 
pessimistic thinking, 207 
pharmaceutical industry, 239 
Plato, 17 
plot, 220 

governmental, 243 
Pol Pot, 132 
policymakers, 1, 176 
political actors, 180 
political alienation, 179 
political apathy, 179 
political arena, 185 
political attitudes, 152, 276 
political behavior, 98 
political campaigns, 150 


political candidate, 47 
political choices, 150 
political cultures, 114 
political cynicism, 150, 226, 254 
political economy, 110 
political efficacy, 179 
political engagement, 101 
political environment, 107 
political expertise, 101 
political extremists, 158 
political group identities, 292 
political identification, 297 
political instability, 304 
political mobilization, 229 
political orientation, 167 
political parties, 176 
membership of, 177 
trust in, 185, 186 
political person perception, 92 
political support, 179, 184 
political system, 116 
political trust, 102 
politicians, 7, 61, 94 
trust in, 176, 186 
politics, 7 

American, 221, 276 
Italian, 151 
Ponzi scheme, 6 
populist communication, 153 
populist narrative, 228 
Portugal, 94 

positive-negative asymmetry, 57 
poverty rates, 112 
power, 5, 17, 34, 91, 106, 140, 299 
absolute, 28 
actual differences in, 26 
affordance, 33, 38 
ambiguous, 301 
asymmetry, 108 
attraction of, 77, 79 
authoritarian, 134 
balance of, 130 
coercive, 19 
construal of, 75, 79 
corrupts versus purifies, 64 
definition of, 73 
different forms of, 78 
disinhibiting effect of, 24 
equal, 200 
exorcism of, 140 
feelings of, 19, 21 
forms of, 78 
hierarchy. 111 
hungry, 92 
military, 144 


320 


Index 


power ( cont.) 
misuse of, 81 
perceptions, 38 
positions of, 19 
research, 80 
power basis theory, 107 
power corrupts, 5, 21, 53, 60, 73 
power priming, 80 
powerless, 245 
powerlessness, 224, 254 
prejudice, 152, 153, 159, 244, 276 

dual-process motivational model of, 276 
preoccupation, 295 
presidential candidate, 91 
presidential election 
2008 US, 299 
pride, 99, 298 
prime, 22 
prime minister, 26 
priming procedure, 79 
Princess Diana, 226, 237, 254, 258 
privilege, 24 

Prodi, Romano, 158, 171 
profile, 150 
projection, 261 
promotion focus, 80 
propaganda, 115, 144 
prosocial behavior, 39, 46 
protest behaviour, 179 
Protestants, 191 
prototypicality, 142 
pseudo-history, 218 
pseudoscience, 218 
psychological profile, 152 
psychopathology, 277, 286 
public choice theory, 110 
public confidence, 176 
public discussion, 73 
purity, 306 

qualitative variation, 12 

radical, 141 
radicalization, 179 
Rainbow Warrior , 280 
random events, 263 
rational, 202 

Reagan, Ronald, 92, 101, 162 
realistic conflict, 200, 246 
recall, 22 

reciprocal influence model of power, 38 

reciprocity, 118 

Red Bull, 266 

re-election, 8 

referenda, 116 


regimes, 120 
regulatory focus, 79 
rejection, 244 
feelings of, 245 

relational accountability, 91, 102 
relative deprivation, 113 
relativism, 153 
religion, 303 
religious beliefs, 294 
religiousness, 153 
representation, 177, 181, 302 
Republicans, 244, 287, 298 
resistance, 107 
resource inequality, 306 
resources 

relational and material, 106 
responsibility, 73, 77, 114 
responsible, 82 
responsible action, 74 
right-wing authoritarianism, 152, 273, 275 
right-wing electorate, 151 
right-wing populist movements, 303 
rigid hierarchy, 9, 137 
risk assessment, 34 
Robin Hood, 39 
role differentiation, 141 
rosy halo, 58, 61 
royal family, 258 
rule-breaking, 33 
rules, 41 
rumination, 207 

Salem witches, 218 
sanctions, 43 
Santa Claus, 220 
Saudi Arabia, 110 
scale, 266 
paranoia, 241, 281 
power affordance, 40 
scapegoating, 116, 300 
schizotypy, 228, 278 
Schmitt, Carl, 293 
secret, 220, 254 
secret world government, 244 
security, 110, 161 
threats to, 276 
self-anchoring, 54 
self-categorization, 137 
self-categorization theory, 135, 239 
self-centeredness, 76 
self-concept, 43 
self-consciousness 
public, 241 
self-control, 29 
self-determination, 47 


Index 


321 


self-doubt, 123 
self-enhancement, 136 
self-esteem, 224, 226, 294 
selfish behavior, 39, 73 
selfishness, 23, 76, 242 
self-protective behaviors, 210 
self-referential, 241 
self-regulatory focus, 7 5 
self-serving behavior, 73 
self-transcendence 
versus self-enhancement, 160 
self-uncertainty 
reduction of, 136 
semantic meaning, 256 
sense-making desires, 238 
sense-making processes, 238, 247 
sense-making strategies, 247 
September 11, 2001, 226, 254, 274, 287 
sex, 23 

sex scandals, 18 

sexually transmitted diseases, 244 
Sherif, Muzafer, 200 
Sinai talks, 273 

sinister attribution bias, 209, 241 
sinister motives, 254 
situated focus theory of power, 7 5 
slaveholders, 218 
social animals, 108 
social arrangements, 59 
social categorization, 200 
social change, 134 
social cognition, 134 
social comparison processes, 106 
social construction, 301 
social dilemma, 34 
social distance theory of power, 55 
social dominance orientation, 81, 152, 
244, 273, 275 
social hierarchies, 44 
social identity, 134 
social identity theory, 239, 298 
social identity theory of leadership, 135, 
137 

social judgments, 67 

social motivation, 74 

social order, 42, 45 

social power, 78 

social self, 248 

social stability, 158 

social value orientation, 77, 192 

social values, 139 

social withdrawal, 210 

social worldviews, 165 

socialization, 153 

sociocognitive approach 


to power, 74 
socioeconomic status, 46 
South Korea, 108 
Soviet Union, 131 
spurious correlation, 260 
stakeholders, 1, 58 
Stalin, Josef, 6, 131 
states, 118 

free-market versus social-democratic, 
118 

status, 23, 24, 29, 67, 93, 138, 200 
differentiation, 142 
group, 82 

status quo, 45, 46, 212 
status symbol, 25 
stereotype, 54 

stereotype content model, 93 
stereotype-consistent information, 208 
stereotypes, 8 
stereotyping, 5 
Stone, Oliver, 225 
structural equation modeling, 283 
subjective well-being, 112 
submission to authority, 152 
subordinates, 38, 54 
sucker’s payoff, 205 
suffering, 35 
superhuman, 220 
superstition, 293 
survival needs, 107 
suspicion, 53, 151, 193, 199, 279 
mutual, 200 
suspicious, 4, 38 
Switzerland, 94 

symmetric intergroup relations, 203 

system blame, 243 

system dependence, 59 

system justification theory, 45, 59 

systems 

ordered versus disordered, 302 
temptations, 23 

terror management theory, 12, 294 
terrorism, 219 
terrorist attack, 222, 229 
Thatcher, Margaret, 162 
Third Reich, 276 
threat, 59, 277 
detection, 212 
existential, 199 
external, 224 
manipulation, 248 
social, 199 
ultimate, 294 
uncontrollable, 300 


322 


Index 


ticket-splitting, 177 

token groups, 204 

top-management, 27 

totalitarian regime, 38, 264, 305 

tough-mindedness, 153 

trade, 130 

trade unions, 177 

traditions, 152 

tragedy, 222 

trait adjectives, 92 

transcendence, 295 

transparency, 62, 121 

trend, 188 

trust, 17, 91, 106, 182, 201, 277 
decline in, 176 
institutional, 117 
interpersonal, 192 
mistrust versus distrust, 193 
political, 192 
trust dilemmas, 200 
trustworthiness, 62, 202 
trustworthy, 92 

Turkish genocide of Armenians, 303 
turnout, 177 

Tuskegee syphilis study, 229, 257 
Twin Towers, 262 
tyranny, 141 

Ukraine, 42 

uncertainty, 109, 130, 136, 153, 170, 238, 
242 

societal, 143 

uncertainty-identity theory, 136, 

139 

unemployed, 193 
unethical decision-making, 5 
uninhibited action, 77 
United Kingdom, 180 
urban legends, 225 
US government, 237 
US presidential elections, 100 
us versus them 
reasoning, 238 
utilitarian, 45 

values, 43, 150, 159, 222 
religious, 162 


victim blaming, 247 
video, 36 
vigilance, 193 
vignette, 241 
vilification, 306 
violence, 143 
voice, 110 
volatility, 177 
volitional capacity, 36 
voter aid applications, 178 
voter loyalty 
decline of, 178 
voters, 91 

voting behavior, 152 
vulnerability, 67, 108, 204, 205, 244 

Wall Street, 6 

war, 130, 219 

warmth, 8, 92 

Warren, Earl, 211 

Warren Commission Report, 

218 

Watergate, 4, 5, 18, 228, 244, 254 
wealth, 26, 108 
Weber, Max, 24 
websites 

devoted to conspiracies, 259 
welfare state, 156 
well-being, 101, 200, 243 
Western cultures, 80 
Western Europe, 177 
White Americans, 243 
winner-loser gap, 182 
within-country variation, 188 
within-group phenomenon, 

242 

World War II, 130 
worldview, 275 

dangerous/competitive, 279 
motivated maintenance of, 

266 

worldview defense, 294 
zeal 

political, 298 

Zogby International poll, 237 
Zuckerberg, Mark, 26